


Wolf at the Door

by November_Ashes



Series: Guardians [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/November_Ashes/pseuds/November_Ashes
Summary: When Corypheus arrives in Thedas, Neve Trevelyan gets caught in the middle of a long war while the former Warden-Commander uncovers evidence that things are more complicated than they seem.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Merrill, Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet, Josephine Montilyet/Female Trevelyan, Leliana/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Sigrun/Velanna (Dragon Age)
Series: Guardians [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836994
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

The forest was relatively quiet, given the hour. The sky was finally beginning to lighten to a deep, cloud-heavy grey that promised there wouldn’t be enough sunlight to chase the chill from the air until later in the day, if at all. Occasionally, the chipper trill of a songbird pierced the ever-present drone of the surf, as if proving some creatures weren’t at all bothered by the prospect of another dreary morning by the sea.

Drawing himself from his grumpy rumination, Nathaniel Howe shifted on the rock he’d been perched on for the last three hours, settling his damp cloak more bearably around his shoulders. Nearby, a tin cup sat forgotten on the sandy ground. The bank he’d staked out offered a view of the coastline below, curving off into the distance in one direction and ending at the high, rocky cliffs in the other. The cliffs were what he watched now. Or rather, the cave. An unconscious frown pulled at his face. The whole area, despite his grumbling, would seem nice enough--assuming one had an appreciation for the beach--if one didn’t know what lurked nearby. 

He wondered how many had taken shelter in those caves, none the wiser. The coast was littered with the wreckage of boats, and there were few settlements in the area. Perhaps he was just being grave. Scowling, he glanced about for his cup. The sun was presumably high enough now that the others should be stirring. He tossed out the sand and coffee mixture, courtesy of the wind and neglect, and strode stiffly back toward camp.

When he returned, the elven member of their company was sitting beside the fire, glaring at him. To be fair, he didn’t suppose she was glaring because he had slighted her, it was simply how she looked at people. Her hair, normally pulled into a tight bun, hung loose around her face. It made her appear both younger and unfamiliar. Even after all this time traveling together, he supposed he still wasn’t used to seeing her look anything other than put together. She flicked her eyes over him, as if taking in his disheveled state, and seemed to dismiss him, returning her attention to a cast-iron pot that hung over the small blaze.

“Morning.” He cleared his throat after he spoke, hearing how rough his voice sounded. From having sat in the cold, damp air half the night no doubt.

“You need to shave.”

He sighed, scratching at his jaw which, indeed, was getting prickly. “Right. Where’s Sigrun?”

“Getting more wood. Coffee’s there.” The elf indicated a decanter with a jerk of her chin, not bothering to look up.

He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and actual word, possibly of gratitude, and ducked into his tent. A few minutes of shuffling around later, he was changed into reasonably dry clothes and had his kit. “I’m going to the creek. To shave.” He said with a sarcastic tilt of his head, receiving a smirk for his efforts, and headed into the woods.

The path to the creek was worn enough to be followed without too much effort, most of the litter and low-hanging limbs having been cleared for convenience’s sake. He only had to occasionally clear a spider web away or push aside a branch still heavy with the night’s collection of moisture as he made his way. As he walked, he paid particular attention to the sounds of the forest. This part of the Storm Coast was known for other dangers, bear among them as they were especially fond of places with a great deal of running water. 

To call the wide, slow-moving waterway a ‘creek’ seemed a bit inadequate. When they had scouted this area, they found a large waterfall over a league away which fed most of the tributaries in this area. The creek they camped beside was an off-shoot of the larger river that fed into the Waking Sea nearby. So much rain and running water, in addition to the rocky terrain, had also contributed to a number of caves besides the one they were keeping such a close watch on. They had managed to explore some of them. He shuddered with the memory. 

Bears weren’t the only large predators on the coast. Giant spiders were fond of dark places, and they’d run into more than a few in their excursions. He glanced up and down the bank as he emerged from the tree line, pausing and taking in his surroundings. The air was still crisp, and a thin layer of fog hung over the water. Only the sound of rushing leaves blown by the wind, almost in mimicry of the surf nearer the sea, and the occasional plop of a fish leaping at shadows on the water. Satisfied, he settled down and dug in his kit. Mind still on bears and spiders, he failed to notice the figure approaching from around the bend.

“Nathaniel!”

Nearly dropping his mirror into the water, Nathaniel leapt to his feet. “Pallas.”

The young woman slowed her pace uncertainly at his aggravated tone. “I thought you were on watch.”

“It ended.” He quirked a brow at her, noticing her dripping hair. “Have you been swimming?”

Pallas shrugged lightly. “I thought I heard something, so I came out here to check.”

“And decided to jump in the creek?”

“Well, it turned out to be nothing and I was already here.”

Nathaniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Velanna’s cooking. I’ll be along soon.”

Pallas nodded and headed off, none too quietly.

Sighing, he watched her go, wondering if she had been that noisy when she walked up on him earlier. Was he losing his senses? Perhaps his mind?

_Perhaps you would have paid more attention if she had been a giant spider._

Kneeling back down, he wiped his mirror off and got to work.

**

Fed and armored, the Wardens did a final check of their weapons. Pallas had scrubbed her short hair dry until it stuck up haphazardly all over her head, and Velanna, now properly groomed, had been eyeing it for some time. Nathaniel and Sigrun kept exchanging amused glances, silently wondering how long before Velanna took matters into her own hands.

It kept their minds off of other things, anyway, until Sigrun finally cleared her throat.

“Alright. We ready? Hate to keep the bastards waiting.”

With a grave sort of anticipation, they rose and began gathering their packs and weapons. Since first receiving reports of Darkspawn on the coast, their company had been guarding this entrance to the Deep Roads after clearing out the area. They had been stationed here for weeks, and would most likely remain for some time until they were relieved and another group could take over. 

Nathaniel was glad he had been able to remain with those he knew. They fought well together and trusted each other. Wardens, like any other military outfit, could appreciate the importance of trusting those you fought beside. The only newcomer was Pallas. She was new to the Grey Warden order, as well. New recruits were still as rare as diamonds, and nearly as coveted. 

While no one was unhappy to have gained a recruit, Pallas had gotten off to a rough start. She had come to the Wardens from the Templar order. Pallas belonged to a noble family and in hers, it was expected for their members to enter service to the Chantry in some form—though not usually a first-born child and expected heir to the estate. Her desire to become a Templar wasn’t exactly frowned upon, but to hear Pallas tell it, it was simply another act in a pattern of contrariness her parents had eventually used in their case against her. 

She began training at the Chantry in Ostwick so she could remain near her family. Everything had seemed to be going well; the devotions were inspiring, she enjoyed the swordplay and techniques, even though their practical application remained theoretical at that point, and she was soon ready for her first posting.

She was stationed at Kirkwall. Nathaniel frowned, remembering. He hadn’t been in Kirkwall, exactly, but he remembered hearing first-hand about the events from Anders when the Champion ventured into the Deep Roads to find him. And so he hadn’t been surprised when Pallas had said she’d tried to be reassigned. She had been so young and powerless, and seeing how mages were being treated and what she was expected to do under Meredith’s command had not been what she signed on for. Attempts to use her family name were rebuffed, as were appeals to her parents. Finally, Pallas had been caught trying to smuggle a group of mages out of the city. 

It was sheer luck Warden Stroud found her and not a group of her fellow Templars. Laying out her fate if she returned and was discovered, Pallas decided to join the Wardens instead. 

For a time after she had been assigned to them, Pallas had trouble working as part of a unit. Or seemed to. She worked an almost meandering sort of pattern in battle, herding the Darkspawn one way or another without seeming direction while the rest of them struggled to pick them off before they were overwhelmed. When asked, she said it just made more sense at the time. Finally, Nathaniel started to see what she was doing. There was a method to her movements that seemed to gather up the Darkspawn and form them into sort of a box as she danced among them. It made it difficult to target from range unless they spread out and timed it when they knew she’d be moving out of the way. He almost believed that she could wear the Darkspawn down all by herself, given enough time. Once they had worked out a strategy, her sword and shield had become invaluable. 

Finally, they arrived at the mouth of the cave. As always it seemed to loom over him, dark and foreboding, and the stale air whistling from within seemed to whisper the promise that if he stepped foot inside, he would never come back out.

Nathaniel felt his gut clench. No matter how long it had been since his first venture, or how often he went, he would never feel comfortable going into the Deep Roads.

“I’ll take point.” Pallas said easily, unstrapping her shield and holding it before her as she moved past. 

Velanna bumped him with her hip as she came even with him. “The torch?”

He struck the light as Velanna fell into place behind Pallas, not wanting the light to interfere with her vision. Sigrun went next, and Nathaniel brought up the rear. With his free hand, he felt for the short sword at his hip and left his hand resting on its hilt. It wasn’t his preferred weapon; that was the longbow slung across his back, but if they were ambushed, he would have more time to use the sword and having it was a comfort.

Another thing he would never get used to was the stench. Darkspawn reeked of rot and damp, dark earth and something else entirely their own. Nathaniel always equated it to despair. Or maybe cheese. Even though they had cleared this particular tunnel of the creatures some time ago, and had to venture further and further into the Roads to engage them, the sickly scent of them lingered, clinging to the damp, briny rock of the walls. And as always when they were in the Deep Roads, he sensed the Darkspawn near. His blood sang with it. The torch guttered in the slight breeze coming from within, and he held it aside to keep from catching his hair. 

They walked familiar paths for over an hour before emerging into a crossroads. It was farther than they had traveled before, and cautiously, they looked around. The large chamber was crossed with bridges wrought from stone, which spanned a bottomless chasm, at least as far as the torchlight could show him. Velanna and Sigrun probably saw much more of the room, their eyes far better suited to darkness, but he was hesitant to ask at the moment. Voices carried too well over stone. 

They didn’t see the Darkspawn at first.

Turning around, Nathaniel caught the flash of eyes in the corner of his vision. Sigrun reached and pulled the twin axes from the sheathes on her back and cast a faint grin over her shoulder at him, and he heard the hooting calls begin. In the torchlight, their reflective eyes shone red. It was always unnerving. Seeing so many pairs of red eyes coming towards them and nothing else always made it seem like there were more of them than there truly were. 

He heard, more than saw, Pallas draw her sword and begin to draw them in with a sharp, challenging bark. Sigrun moved to the left in a blur of glinting metal and cleaved one from neck to sternum that had been moving up on their side. Nathaniel quickly wedged the edge of the torch in a crack in the wall and whipped his bow around, firing an arrow through the throat of another with a practiced motion.

Before long, Pallas’ pattern began to emerge. Nathaniel and Velanna whittled the stragglers down with fire and arrows before beginning on the main bulk. 

Pallas moved among the pack of Darkspawn as though she were dodging suitors at a ball, though with probably a lot more blood involved. Hopefully, anyway. Using her shield more to slide than to batter, she skirted past one, lashing out with her sword to catch another across the leg on her way, whirled to block the blade of another, disarmed it with a downward blow, another whirl to engage the next before moving on, always continuing until she’d completed her pattern, then beginning again. It was dizzying. Sigrun moved in from the side, taking the pressure off Pallas by beheading an unwary Hurlock, cackling as his neighbor whipped around and stabbed a rusty make-shift pike in her general direction.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel and Velanna rained death from opposite sides of the chamber. Predicting Pallas’ movement, Nathaniel would work to clear out the Darkspawn on one side with arrows while Velanna alternated fire and frost spells on the other. Simple and effective. 

As the pack dwindled, Sigrun crashed through a genlock Velanna had frozen with great flair, pieces of the creature even bouncing off of Nathaniel’s armor. He suppressed a smirk as he observed the battlefield. The last of the Darkspawn lay dead, with Pallas standing among them and looking around with a deep scowl on her face.

“Pallas?”

Hearing her name, she looked over at Nathaniel, still frowning. “There aren’t very many of them, are there?”

“You’re complaining?” Sigrun grinned, wiping her axe blade off on one of the bodies.

At the observation, Nathaniel also looked around critically. There were only about ten of the Darkspawn. While not entirely unusual, this far into the Deep Roads he would have also expected there to be more.

“Perhaps they are moving on from this part of the Roads.” Velanna offered. She was kneeling beside a Hurlock, holding a vial against a cut she’d made in its neck. Once it was full, she placed a stopper in it and tucked it away in a pouch on her belt.

“Maker, are you still doing that?”

Velanna scowled at him, rising and readjusting the strap of her pack. “I wasn’t aware I needed to keep you updated.”

Sigrun glanced between them. “We should get back to camp.”

“It’s only been a few hours. We can go a bit further.” Velanna started off toward another road at a right angle to their entrance. Nathaniel exchanged a look with Sigrun. Finally, he sighed. 

“Any idea where we are?”

“Not exactly. There aren’t any reliable maps of the Deep Roads, you know. We’ll leave markers.” She clapped him on the shoulder before looking around. “Where’d Pallas go?”

Looking around, they finally spotted her by one of the low buildings they hadn’t noticed before. She seemed to be studying something on the wall. Shrugging, the pair walked over.

“What’s up, kid?”

“This is a lovely sconce.”

Nathaniel looked from Pallas to the somewhat primitive sconce on the wall. “I…suppose.”

“The dwarves have made lovely things for so long. It’s a shame.”

Sigrun wrapped an arm around Pallas’ waist and squeezed her briefly. “Come on, let’s go before Velanna leaves our asses.”

Nathaniel watched them wander off after Velanna and spared a brief, almost wistful glance back down the tunnel they’d entered. Resigning himself to more hours here in the dark, he turned and followed his companions.

**

The sun was setting by the time they emerged. The ever-present clouds had dispersed enough to reveal the blood red molten ball hovering just over the horizon, setting flame to the choppy gray seas. Nathaniel was pleased to see it. Covered in the black, tacky blood of the Darkspawn, as were the rest of his companions, he wanted nothing more than food and sleep, and maybe a bath if he could be bothered to stay awake long enough.

Their further exploration had indeed uncovered more Darkspawn, and their small party had been hard pressed to dispatch them all. Much of the portion of the Deep Roads they’d been canvassing seemed to have collapsed, as the road they followed ended in a cave-in not a quarter-league from the entrance. They’d had to double back down another path, leaving them to conclude the Darkspawn were climbing up from the chasm at the crossroads. Meaning there could be an endless number of them coming into this area. Though Sigrun’s eyes lit up at the news, no one else had been similarly heartened.

As they made their way along the beach back toward their camp, Nathaniel noticed Pallas had lagged behind. Usually this meant she was merely enjoying the scenery or some other idleness, but she seemed particularly intent on something, and so he slowed his steps until he came even with her. “Something on your mind?”

“What is she looking for down there?”

Nathaniel shouldn’t have been surprised at her perception, but the question still caught him a bit off guard. Though he wanted to share his concern for his friend with someone, he looked resignedly ahead as he answered. “You’ll have to ask her that. It’s not my place.”

Pallas didn’t seem bothered by this answer, merely pacing beside him with the same expression she’d had before, as though he’d said nothing.

“You did well today.”

Pallas looked up at him, blinking. “Do they ever stop?”

“No.”

“Then it’s good, I suppose.”

“What’s good?”

Pallas tilted her head, confused.

“Oh.” Nathaniel grinned. “Right. Just keep it up. We have your back.”

“I know.”

They were surprised to find someone waiting for them at their camp.

“Sers. I have orders from Weisshaupt.”

The Warden messenger bowed, and held out a tightly-wrapped scroll bearing the seal of the First Warden. Nathaniel blinked at him in a stupor. “I’m sorry?”

“A new directive from high command.” He stepped forward, holding out the scroll. 

Velanna eyed him warily. “They usually send new orders by raven. What’s changed?”

“Not for me to say, ser. I was ordered to find our outposts and deliver these personally.”

Finally, Nathaniel reached out and took the scroll. “Thank you. We’ll read this and respond first thing in the morning.”

“Ser, the orders are to be followed immediately—“

Nathaniel twitched in irritation. “We’ve just returned from an excursion in the Deep Roads. As you can see, we’re in need of a bath and rest if nothing else. I thank you for delivering these in person. You’re dismissed.”

The messenger looked like he wanted to protest further, but finally just nodded, clasped a fist to his chest and turned to mount his horse.  
“What does it say?” Sigrun asked, stomping over and reaching for the scroll.

“Let’s…let’s just get cleaned up and fed first. It can wait that long, at least.”

“I gotta weird feeling about this, Nate.” Sigrun frowned, setting the scroll on the table they used to work on letters and stubborn armor pieces by the campfire.

“So do I”.

Pallas stirred the pot bubbling over the fire, freshly bathed and dressed in a clean tunic and breeches, as were the others. She didn’t seem overly troubled by the letter itself, more over the state it put her companions in. She’d already asked if everything was alright, and everyone had tried to reassure her. Everyone besides Nathaniel. He didn’t see the point of lying. As Velanna had said, new orders were delivered by raven. That high command had deigned to send a rider to each outpost in person with new orders meant something was going on. 

He had tried to get them to wait until they had eaten before he opened the scroll. He hadn’t wanted to spoil everyone’s appetite if the letter said they were all about to be made to go to their deaths hunting archdemons. It’s what they were all thinking. Unfortunately, anticipation was worse than knowing, which had been made clear to him. So finally, he was breaking the wax seal and unrolling the parchment, and about to read his friends their fate.

Frowning, he read the meager contents of the scroll again, to be sure.

“What is it?” Velanna’s voice was harsh with anxiety. Sigrun merely watched him, brows drawn.

“It just…says we’re being recalled to Weisshaupt. Effective immediately.”

“Is that all?” Pallas asked. “I’ve never been.”

“Let me see.” Velanna reached over and Nathaniel handed her the scroll. Velanna also frowned as she read it. “Why did this have to be delivered in person? It says nothing.”

“Right.” Sigrun grunted, reading over her shoulder. “Welp. Guess we’re done killing Darkspawn for a while.” She sounded grumpy as she said it.

“All the outposts are getting these…” Nathaniel wondered. 

“Has this happened before?” Pallas asked.

“Not since I’ve been a Warden. Not that I’ve ever heard of, in fact.”

Pallas stirred the pot thoughtfully before shrugging. “I suppose we’ll find out when we arrive.” She reached for the bowls.

“Yes. I suppose so.” Nathaniel looked toward Sigrun and Velanna. Both seemed to be seeing something he couldn’t.

The next morning, before the sun had presumably risen, the air was heavy with damp and cold. Nathaniel grimaced as he emerged from his tent with his pack, dressed and packed the night before. Though he was less than pleased with the circumstances, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t be glad to leave the Storm Coast behind. The farther behind, the better. 

Sigrun was still on watch, but Pallas and Velanna had apparently woken up before he had and already taken down their tents and stowed them on the horses. They shifted under their burdens, having been free to graze for nearly a month, and stamped their feet in irritation and lipped at their tack. Sighing, Nathaniel set his pack down and began taking down his own tent.

Once he was finished and had secured his belongings to his own horse, Sigrun returned from watch. The sky was lightening to that off-grey color he was not-so-fond of. When Sigrun saw him, she began to say something, then merely closed her mouth, patted him on the back and began taking down her own tent. He eyed her curiously, then saw Velanna standing near the horses. She had her arms crossed and was merely watching him. It was her universal sign for ‘we need to talk’. He heeded it.

“I’m not going back.” It was said without preamble. He was hardly surprised, and yet… 

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Yes, he did. Her research. The blood she collected. Her ceaseless search in the Deep Roads. 

She nodded slightly, as though she could read his thoughts. “I can’t continue if I return to Weisshaupt. I won’t have the resources, the freedom, the access…”  
He did understand. He didn’t like it, but he understood. “Sigrun knows?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not staying?”

“We can’t all of us stay.” Velanna looked away as she said it, trying to hide something. When she looked back, he saw it was regret. “You’ll tell them you lost me.” Switching the conversation to more practical matters seemed to center her, and Velanna’s eyes sharpened. “You don’t have to lie. Not really.”

“It’s fine.” Nathaniel sighed, crossing his arms. “I worry for you.”

“I’ll be more worried for you all. This business…it’s disconcerting. Please, take care. I want to be seeing you all again.”

“We will. And you, as well. I…” Nathaniel gripped her shoulders carefully, the most contact he’d ever made with the woman. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. I do.”

“…Thank you.”

Velanna gripped one of his arms briefly, then patted it. “Go on, now. Don’t want to be late. Be careful.”

“You too.”

Velanna took her horse’s reigns and led it away into the woods, not looking back. Nathaniel watched her disappear into the shadows, and when he glanced over, he noticed Sigrun was watching her go, too.

Walking over, he laid a hand on her shoulder, not bothering with words. They both stood there for long minutes until Pallas returned from wherever she had been.

“Are we ready to depart?”

“Yes. I think we are.”

Pallas looked to the horses, then around at the campsite. “Where is Velanna?”

Sigrun barely glanced at her as she mounted her horse. “She had to go look for something.”

Pallas stared for a moment, then nodded in perfect understanding. “Then we’d best be off.” Mounting her own horse, she patted it’s neck to settle it’s fidgeting, then followed after Sigrun.

Nathaniel cast a final look in the direction Velanna disappeared, resting his hands on the saddle. Then, with a smooth motion, he hauled himself onto horseback and settled in, guiding his mount after his companions and leaving the campsite to the overly-cheerful birds and cold, permeating damp of another morning on the Storm Coast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a fix-it fic where I'm going through and changing the things that annoyed me about canon, but mostly I'm just having fun. I'm planning to go from some slight changes to DA lore to something that might not be recognizable as Dragon Age by the end, but hopefully still enjoyable. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just  
Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow  
In their blood, the maker’s will is written_

Benedictions 4:10-11

Throughout her whole life, Neve had listened to tales of Andraste and attended services at the Chantry. It was expected. More than expected. Not to, as a Trevelyan, would have been unthinkable. Overtures of piety had always been prevalent in the household, and as it was with things one was always inundated with, it became background noise. The services, the Chant, the stories; all were simply interwoven into her life in the way that brushing one’s teeth in the morning was, and given about as much thought once she had moved onto something else. 

But on the side of the snow-driven Frostbacks as she stood before the crudely carved statues framing the entryway of the Temple of Sacred Ashes alongside many of the most influential citizens of Thedas, surrounded by the ghosts of hundreds who had made the pilgrimage from all over the world to pay homage to a woman long dead, Neve began to understand. The grand arcs stood in quiet dignity against the harsh winds and before her, the snow leading up the path before her was packed by hundreds, maybe thousands of footprints. 

A chill having nothing to do with the cold slipped along the back of her neck, though not an unpleasant one, and she could almost feel the gaze of the woman herself shining down upon her followers.

Now, however, having spent hours in the company of others navigating stilted conversation amid a tension so thick it set her teeth on edge, alternately freezing and cooking while standing too near to the fires, the awe had been somewhat diminished.

The muscles in her neck and shoulders ached from holding the tense posture she’d assumed in response to the air of tempered hostility that hung over the crowd. She had opted for roaming the many halls, hoping movement would ease the stiffness as well as needing a momentary escape from propriety.

Neve had never seen so many mages together in one place in her life. Even in the aftermath of Kirkwall, when some of the Circle mages were being moved to the tower in Markham there's hadn't been more than a dozen. Neve supposed it was a sad testament to just how destructive the battle in the city of chains had been. 

Even with there being so many people, they couldn't come close to filling the space inside the Temple. Neve could have spent hours wandering around and still probably wouldn't have seen it all. Who had built the place? How old was it? She remembered from her lessons with Master Piken descriptions and drawings of statues of Andraste's followers, which she had seen in a cordoned-off corridor she had passed during her wanderings. She wondered what it was like for the Hero of Ferelden and her companions when they had rediscovered it. 

Despite the torches being spaced at close intervals and the heat seeping from the main chamber generated by the great hearth and hundreds of milling bodies, the halls were still freezing cold. Neve frowned, tugging her heavy overcoat more tightly around her as she trod through the many arcing stone passageways of the massive temple. 

Stepping out into the great hall, she found a reasonably unoccupied spot on the balcony and leaned against it, relieved to be out of the crowd. Below her, packs of men and women in robes of varying color and design cordoned themselves off from those in glittering armor on the other side of the room. Interspersed among them were others who held stake in the outcome of this summit; nobles, businessmen and women of varying repute…she’d even seen the silver and blue armor of the Grey Wardens among the crowd. 

Great, horned Qunari dressed in uniform dark leathers and coats prowled the room stoically, their weapons sheathed but on prominent display. Neve had come across some of them while wandering, grimly posted in unobtrusive corners. They had eyed her when she passed, but hadn’t moved to stop her or direct her back to the main hall. She supposed they were hired as additional security with instructions to halt any outward hostilities, not to redirect lost attendees.

The Divine’s entourage had yet to arrive. She had gleaned that much from her wanderings in the side chambers, knowing enough of formal gatherings from her time at court to assume the Most Holy would be ushered quickly away from prying eyes to prepare for her address. Not that her own family’s estate had ever been graced with the Divine’s presence, but it stood to reason she would want a moment to herself before the plebeians were alerted.

“Tae Cadash.”

Neve startled out of her thoughts and looked around for the voice. Finally she looked down, finding a female dwarf standing near her elbow with a sly grin and an outstretched hand. She blinked again and reached down to shake it. “Uhm...”

“Hello, Uhm. You have a last name?”

“I’m Neve Trevelyan.” She stated a bit gruffly, flustered at the dwarf’s teasing.

“That’s nice. Are you a guard? I’m looking for the refreshments.”

“I’m here for the Conclave.”

“Oh, great! Me, too! I just assumed you were a guard, you’re so tall!”

“I imagine everyone is tall to you.”

“Hah! That’s funny.” Neve didn’t think Tae was being sarcastic. “Want to go find the drinks with me? I’m getting tired of hanging out with the family. Most Holy is taking her time getting here, I’m worried a fight is gonna break out. Have you been here long?”

“Er.. Yes. A drink sounds fine.” Neve’s head was spinning as the dwarf rapidly spoke, but as she was being dragged along by the hand though the crowd after her, she realized a drink really did sound fine, and having company might not be so bad either.

A bar had been set up in a corner of the great hall Neve hadn’t noticed on her initial circuit, near one of the large hearths. After a cup of mead and a bowl of roast something, Neve was in considerably better spirits. 

She had found out quite a bit about her new friend in the meantime. Tae was a member of House Cadash, and they were in the ‘lyrium trading business’. Neve wasn’t naïve enough to not understand that meant they were smugglers. When she had pointed that out, Tae merely shrugged. “What are they going to do to stop us? They need us. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything.” Neve had to admit she had a point.

Tae said she and her family were there to represent their interests. The outcome of the Conclave would have a large impact on their business, one way or another. 

“So, what’s your story? Haven’t heard of your House before. From Ostwick, you said?”

Hearing Tae’s story, Neve felt her own business was petty.

“My parents sent me here as punishment,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“After Kirkwall, they decided the Trevelyans needed to be more involved in the business of the Circle. Too late for that in my opinion. As I wasn't doing anything they considered important, they sent me. Apparently I'm not involved enough in matters of state or piety for their liking.”

Before she could further elaborate on her grievances, a line of heralds in gilded robes entered the halls.

“About time!” Tae patted Neve on the shoulder before sliding from the stool. 

Joining dozens of mages and Templars, their animosity seemingly forgotten for the moment, they made their way up the steps of the terrace to get a better vantage. 

“Where is she?”

“She’ll be a while, yet. Her Perfec likes to make an entrance.” Tae leaned comfortably against the railing and sipped at her mug. 

“Oh.”

Tae eyed her. “You’ve never been to a Divine address, have you?”

Neve felt herself flush. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”  
“Ever been to Val Royeaux?”

“No.”

“You should go some time. Lots of pageantry. It’s a beautiful city. Not an old temple up a Maker-forsaken mountain like this.”

“This is the site of the holy ashes of Andraste!” Neve felt defensive, though she wasn’t quite sure why, exactly. It was an old temple up a frozen mountain. 

“Whoa, I don’t mean disrespect! I'm Andrastian myself. I know, weird for a dwarf. Anyway, the Ashes aren’t even here anymore. After the finders let out about the location, they disappeared. Fancy that, right? You want a real nice place though, you should visit the Grand Cathedral.”

“I’ve heard it’s quite impressive,” Neve said, chagrined at her outburst. 

“It’s massive!” Tae elaborated by throwing her arms wide, sloshing her ale or whatever it was out of her mug and causing Neve to hop to one side to spare her boots. “There was a dragon fight there, and the hero of Orlais fought ten dragons and saved Divine Beatrix from fifty blood mages!”

Neve chuckled. “I’ve heard the tale.”

Tae sighed, resuming her place against the banister. “I love dragons.” Focusing with some effort, she gestured across the room. “Now where d’you suppose they’re going?”

“Who?”

Tae waved the question away. “Come on.”

“We’ll lose our place.”

“There’s time to find a better one.”

Neve glanced back at the dour-faced robes who quickly filled in their spots as she followed after Tae. The dwarf strutted through the congregation like she was on a mission, shouldering her way through the dense crowd with little effort. Neve followed in her wake. 

For there being a war on, the Conclave was surprisingly orderly. Neve had heard many stories of course, being from the Free Marches, of the fighting among mages and Templars in the wake of the Kirkwall disaster. Circle towers falling, rumors of Annulments every few months, refugees scurrying into the cities with tales of rampant blood mages and crazed Templars. She took them with a grain of salt, of course. They couldn’t all be true.

What happened in Kirkwall scared people. It scared her. But seeing the faces of these people now reaffirmed what she had believed in her heart about Kirkwall. Something that was wrong and had been let fester for too long. Whatever her own reasons for being there, she hoped this address would put an end to the hostility.

Tae led her into the corridor that ran into the entry hall of the temple and turned left. Ahead, Neve could just make out a figure disappearing into a doorway. 

“There!” Tae hissed.

“What are we doing?” Neve kept her voice low.

“We’re goin’ to see what those guys are up to,” Tae grinned.

“No! They’re probably guards. We’ll get into trouble.”

“Not like…a lot of trouble.”

“Tae…” Neve fixed her with a pleading look.

“Alright. You stay here. Be a lookout. I’m going down there.”

“But…”

“Hold this.” Tae thrust her mug into Neve’s hands, and was down the hall faster than Neve could sputter another protest.

Swearing under her breath, Neve found an unassuming archway to lean against, and tried to look inconspicuous.

Not five minutes later, a golden-robed chantry herald bustled down the hallway. Neve tried not to make eye contact and instead stared down into the nearly empty contents of the mug.

“Young woman.”

A huff, and the herald swished closer. “Young woman!”

Neve blinked at her, feigning innocence.

“Why are you out here?”

“I’m waiting on a friend, Revered Mother.” Neve had caught a glimpse of the chains of office the woman wore.

“Where is your friend?”

“She went to the privy. She should be back presently.”

“You’d best be off to the main chamber soon, the Most Holy is about to address the room.” The revered mother gave another impatient noise and breezed past, heading off down another hallway.

“Yes, Revered Mother,” Neve said to her back, glancing in the direction Tae had gone with a wince.

Afraid the Mother would come back and find her still waiting there (and remembering the lashes across her knuckles from childhood), Neve made her way down the hall as quietly as she was able. She would duck her head around the corner of the doorway, see if she could spot Tae and get her attention, and either way head back to the main chamber before the Divine began her address. 

Before she had even made it halfway to the door, she heard a muffled shout coming from one of the rooms.

_“Why are you doing this?! You, of all people!”_

She bolted the rest of the length of the hall.

As she stopped in front of the doorway, her mind struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Neve!!”

Tae struggled against two men holding her captive in the corner of the room. A shadow loomed in the back. The Divine floated above the floor, swirling with bands of green light. 

Taking advantage of the distraction, she ripped her arm free of her bonds and knocked an orb that had been hanging in midair across the room. It rolled towards Neve. 

Dumbly, she reached down to grab it. 

Just as her fingertips brushed the cold surface of the orb, the world ended.


	3. Chapter 3

It had rained earlier that morning in the lowlands before the elven woman had started the ascent into the mountains. The cold woodlands had turned into a frosty mire, mud and nettles churned up by the horse’s brisk passage now coating its legs and chest in a thick, lumpy layer. While her clothes and most of the tack had dried before she began to see snow on the ground, the saddle had been fairly drenched. Now, the girth strap squeaked against the rigging with every step the horse took. 

For the past several hours as the leather dried the noise had been consistent, and by the time she reached the first watchman’s post outside Haven, a dark scowl had set into her face underneath her hood.

She didn’t bother stopping to speak with the guard, merely glancing his way and receiving a nod in return, the griffon sigil tooled on her pauldron more than enough to verify her identity even if she hadn’t been expected.

As she reached the main road, the trees cleared and she was able to finally see the spectacle. Carriages and wagons and people not so lucky to have an enclosed means of travel stretched from the gates of the small village down the road as far as she could see, and she knew the majority were already inside the temple. 

If anyone had asked her, which they hadn't, she would have been glad to tell them that while the Temple of Andraste was an auspicious and most appropriate place to hold the Conclave, it certainly wasn't the most accessible. She hadn't even had a carriage the last time and still worried about her ability to cross the mountains. 

Or course, there had also been a dragon.

“Tabris!” An older man of middling height in long purple robes waved from the procession to get her attention. Kallian waved back, forcing a tired smile onto her face. 

“Hadren,” She greeted as he came over.

“Glad to see you made it. Can you believe we made it this far?” He reached up and patted her horse on the neck as Kallian slid down from its back. 

“Nope.”

“Chatty as ever. And how was our mutual acquaintance?”

“Same as she was when you left. I'm glad she stayed back though.”

Hadren grinned and walked with Kallian towards the gates of Haven. 

The older man had volunteered to come on behalf of Grand Enchanter Fiona and had left Andoral's Reach not long before Kallian herself. Kallian walked with his entourage up to the gate, at which point she overheard men arguing. Pursing her lips, Kallian kept her head down and tried to ignore them. Then one man shoved the other into a woman's horse, startling it into nearly dumping its rider. 

Kallian growled in frustration and shoved her horse's reins into the hands of a gawping young mage. “Can't anyone behave themselves?” She muttered, stalking towards the men. 

“...not our duty anymore to get involved in-...”

“..-can't trust them, that's why the rule is there in the first-”

“Hey!” Kallian barked over snatches of the argument that she could catch. The men who had been arguing were all templars, and two others of their company had separated them and were trying to calm them down. “Take it away from the road if you can't control your men--now! You spook these horses and they'll stampede us all off the mountain,” Kallian growled at them, stopping just short of the group.

“Mind your own business, elf. Move along.” One of the men told her.

“Are you deaf? I said break it up, and get out of the way.”

“What do you expect from plebeians?” One of the mages muttered from behind her. Kallian turned to snap at them but one of the templars beat her to it.

The man stomped over to the mage, his fellow templar hanging onto him and trying to drag him back and everything quickly devolved into a lot of yelling and shoving. Kallian ducked a fist that hit the templar, knocking him down and riling up the mages in the procession behind her. Kallian turned to shove the heckler along. “Thanks for that,” She snarled. “Get your asses inside the gate!”

“Warden-Commander Tabris? Should I get the Knight-Captain?” Hadren called to her in a sing-song voice, smirking as the templars stopped to glare daggers at him.  
Kallian released the man she had a hold of and shoved him away. None of the others made a move toward her but neither did they apologize in deference to her identity and rank. 

_Orlesians._

“I'll get him myself,” Kallian huffed, glaring back at the men. “None of you move until I find your superior. Except you; get yourself out of the road.” Kallian kicked snow at one of the men, who stumbled aside with a glare.

The other soldiers and mages alike were giving her furtive looks, and Kallian didn't know whether to thank Hadren or smack him. She preferred to keep a low profile but if her so-called legend occasionally got her out of a templar fist fight, who was she to complain?

Kallian wandered along the road, casually looking for a templar of the correct rank to knock some sense into his men but not straying too far to keep an eye on them. She figured she would wait around for a while until she got tired of looking at them and then send them on their way. It was too cold to stay out here for long. 

They saw the flash well before they heard or felt the explosion. It lit everything in a startling shade of green. Kallian froze in surprise and turned toward the temple. A wide pillar of light reached for the clouds, and she swore she could see each of the stones making up the structure come apart in slow motion, blades of green shooting from between each mortar. 

Then the shock wave hit.

A crackling roar swept through the town, vibrating the air in her chest, her bones, the ground, the buildings. A rush of cold air blasted them off their feet in a clatter of armor and startled yells, the sound nearly lost in the overpowering din. Loose snow and debris swirled in the air carried by the surge, darkening the sky. 

Time slowed down again. The world was filled with the echo of the roar and the swirl of dust and snow and darkness. Kallian’s ears rang with the memory of it. The sharp, metal tang of ozone filled her nose and rested on the back of her tongue, and she coughed in reflex. She got to her feet an inch at a time. Those around her did as well. Slowly, bit by bit. All of them focused on the temple in the distance. Only there was no temple.

“What in the Maker’s name?”

“What happened?”

“It’s…the temple!”

“It’s gone!”

The words seemed to swirl around her in a fog. Kallian blinked rapidly, finally rubbing her eyes when that didn’t work, to see more clearly. Through the miasma of chalky air and scattered light, the place where the Temple of Sacred Ashes once stood was empty. Nothing but a pile of charred and scattered stone lay in a heap to attest that it once existed. She could barely take it all in. Divine Justinia was in there. Mages and Templars from all over Thedas were there. She, herself, was supposed to have been there, not an hour ago. 

Kallian didn’t know how long she stood there, gaping. A boy, she didn’t know his name – she thought he might have been one of Haven's soldiers – came up and touched her shoulder. “Ser, we should move the people back. There is a…I don’t know. It’s…in the sky, Ser.”

Kallian finally dragged her eyes off the rubble and upward… The sky churned like an angry sea. Like the clouds before a storm. But centered directly over the site of the temple, there was a ring. A green, boiling ring, for lack of a better description. Kallian didn’t waste a lot of time coming up with a better one. 

“Yeah, good idea.” She gripped his shoulder and pushed him in the general direction of the others who were beginning to come around. “Get them moving, I want everyone who’s still alive inside these gates for a full briefing in fifteen minutes. You,” She grabbed another soldier who was moving, though shell-shocked. “Check our perimeter. We’re gonna find out what’s going on,” She reassured him, and he nodded, moving off to do as she said. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she shook herself and began moving. There would be time to fully embrace the horror of what had just happened, but first she had to find out what exactly that was. 

The soldiers around her moved in a controlled sort of chaos, relaying her directive, and she knew a moment of pride somehow removed from the discord. She passed through the front gates looking for any extra bodies, and felt her nape hairs lift right before a noise like the ripping of thick parchment seemed to tear through her mind. She grabbed the curved daggers off her back with an unconscious motion and ducked back instinctively to get some space between herself and the location of the noise, turning to see a flickering green tear in the air itself. 

_What in the fuck?_

She tilted her head as she looked within the center. It seemed to show another world, but one she couldn’t quite grasp. It was her father’s house, and also the tower at Kinloch Hold; her home in Val Royeaux and the hills of Montsimmard. Everywhere she had been in her life, and nowhere she had ever been. Then her nightmares began pouring out.

The scream that tore from her throat was unconscious. She would claim that it never happened under torture. Nevertheless, the soldiers who heard it responded and they arrived to aid her in fighting the demonic forces that poured from the strange portal that had opened in front of Haven.

The illusions the Fade pulled from her mind dissolved as the demons spilled into the waking world, but Kallian saw Vaughan’s sneering face a moment before the true demon clawed its way into this plane, and Leliana’s mutilated form moved past in the shimmering void behind it. 

Instinct borne from over a decade of battle took over as her mind fought to shove the disturbing visions aside. She would add this to the list of things to trouble over when it was more convenient. 

Kallian whipped her dagger through the nearest demon’s chest, narrowly avoiding its claws in return as she skirted past. It reeled and spat a rattling hiss and danced back to try to regroup. 

Fortunately, no more than five of the creatures had come from the portal, and with the help from the arriving soldiers, they were wearing them down.

Nearby, one of her people was parrying attacks from one of the big, lanky monsters to come through and Kallian moved in. With it distracted, she ran and leapt, kicking off a nearby rock facing to gain some height and whirled, plunging her daggers deep into its back. It screamed a piercing sound that had Kallian and the soldier both gritting their teeth and seemed to fade from existence altogether in a thin, green mist. Kallian stumbled as she landed, but somehow managed to keep her feet.

“Are you alright, Ser?”  
“Yeah, you?”

“Yes. Thanks for that.”

As they glanced around, they saw the other soldiers had mostly taken out the remaining demons, but were struggling with the remaining Rage demon. It flared at the soldiers, lashing out with claws of fire when they tried to close with it. The heat from the creature’s body had melted the snow and turned the ground around them into a slushy mud. 

Kallian had a brief, nostalgic wish for Morrigan’s presence with a spell ready for such creatures. She scowled and started forward.

The soldiers had it surrounded and it continued to lash out at them, howling with the sound of a windswept fire.

“With these, the pain just pisses it off more, and that just helps it,” She instructed impatiently. “You have to do enough damage at once to sever its connection to this world, or you need a mage. And where the fuck are the mages?” Kallian griped as she made her way over.

“You know something of demons.”

Kallian turned to find the source of the new voice. “Who are you?”

A bald elven man stood on the road, clutching a staff in one hand and the other loosely wound in the strap of his pack. “Not important at the moment. I can help.”  
Kallian frowned. “You’re a mage?”

The man nodded once. “I am. If I may?” He gestured to the demon barely being constrained by the surrounding soldiers.  
Kallian waved an impatient arm towards it.

Walking over easily, the man shifted his staff to his other hand. Glancing at Kallian, the soldiers began clearing a space. 

Speaking in a low voice, he said words in a strange language before lifting his hand and stretching it out, moments before the demon surged toward him. The soldiers shouted in alarm and rushed forward, only to pause in confusion. Kallian, too, had paused in her forward motion. 

Mere inches from the man’s hand, the flames close enough to lick the tips of his fingers, the demon stopped as if stuck in amber. Then, more strangeness. It began to disappear. The Rage demon began to fade away like a drop of wine in a glass of water. To the disbelieving eyes of the soldiers and the deeply suspicious eyes of the Hero of Ferelden, the Rage demon was no more after a few moments, only a swirl of green mist dancing on the ground left to signify its passing.

“….Maker’s breath.”

Kallian glared at the soldier she’d helped earlier, bumping her and scowling at her abashed expression.

She directed her glower to the mage, who adjusted his pack more comfortably on his back and gazed at the strange ring in the sky. “Who are you?”

“My name is Solas.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was in the area. I saw the explosion. I believe I can be of service.”

Kallian’s expression grew sharp. “Why do you think that?”

“I can sense the energies of the Fade expressed in the wake of the explosion. I’m afraid we’ve only begun to see the after-effects.” He stared meaningfully at the portal still flaring behind Kallian.

“You know a lot about the Fade?” Kallian stated.

“I do.”

Kallian didn’t bother to hide either her skepticism or her doubts. She wasn’t running this operation, and at the moment they needed any help they could get. For all she knew, this guy was responsible for what happened at the Conclave, and if he was all the better. Here he was, at camp. No need to hunt him down. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? She would just have to watch him, and that’s what she did best. Watch suspicious assholes. 

“Alright. We’re waiting on Seeker Penteghast to arrive to organize an investigation. You’ll speak with her when she gets here. Until then, looks like we can use your help.”

“Indeed.”

Kallian let the corner of her mouth lift. “Abram, get him inside and let the men know he’s with us. Then get some patrols to look for any more of these fucking portals. Good work, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Aye.” The red-headed bruiser saluted cheerfully and headed back toward the gates. 

**

Three more of the strange portals had opened up in the intervening hours, though none near or inside Haven thankfully. Kallian had done what she could to organize the remaining troops in the face of dissenters, but she kept telling herself she only had to hold things together long enough for Cassandra and Leliana to arrive. She kept telling other people that, too. 

The good thing about the explosion, if there was a good thing, is that it had gotten the Templars to forget that they were assholes for a while. For the most part they were eager to help secure Haven against the demons. The rest of the soldiers sent by the Chantry seemed to wonder what they were still doing there. Kallian wondered that herself, at times. 

There was a large hole in the sky that seemed to be spawning smaller holes according to her new friend Solas, and all were erupting with demons. This both couldn’t be allowed to stand, and couldn’t be staunched with the soldiers they had on hand. There was also the matter that they had no way to close said holes. This caused her to have doubts about the ingenuity of holding this position. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t be glad to hand off command of this post to Cassandra when she arrived. When would she arrive? Leli’s letter said they were delayed at Kirkwall, but they should have left by now. 

She was drawn from her worry as one of the scouts--Wescott, if she remembered--came trotting over to intercept her from across the courtyard.

“How is it?”

“The demons prowl about, but don’t stray far from those tears,” Wescott said. “Most of the men are in the valley and we’re keeping this area contained, as you ordered.”

“Has the scouting party from the temple ruins gotten back yet?”

“No, Ser.”

Kallian grunted. She didn’t hold out hope of survivors, but she owed it to Leliana to at least look and she doubted the others would settle for less, anyway. There was also a chance they would come across something that might explain why the temple exploded. If exploded was the right word. Kallian didn’t even know anymore. The soldiers were to scout the ruins but not to go near the large tear itself in the center of the temple. It had caused something of a dispute with Solas, who had insisted upon going with them.

For all they knew, the tear, or rift as Solas called them, at the temple could be belching out more demons than all of the smaller rifts combined. However as Solas pointed out, he wouldn’t be of much use if he wasn’t allowed to study the place where it all started. She’d had to ‘gently insist’ that she wasn’t prepared to waste lives so he could look at it. After they finished the initial sweep, they could return with a larger force. She hoped the scouts weren’t back yet because they were being thorough and not because they were frozen and dissolving like the Rage demon had done. She frowned to herself at the thought.

“Ser?”

Shaking her head, Kallian clapped Wescott on the shoulder. “Just keep an eye out.”

The glint of armor caught her attention and Kallian narrowed her eyes. Near the Chantry, a group of Templars were gathered noticeably apart from the rest of the troops. Some simply milled around, but others appeared to be gathering belongings and packing up saddle bags. A tall man with dark, curly hair looked up from his conversation, and strode over to the tent that had been set up overlooking the courtyard.

“Ser Tabris, this area is indefensible. We must pull out while we have the opportunity.”

“Commander Alain. It looks like it’s being defended to me.”

“Do not be brash,” He snarled, crossing his plated arms over his chest. “You know as well as I do we don’t have the numbers or the tactical advantage to begin to combat this type of threat. We barely know what type of threat this is!”

“That’s why we have scouts in the field to assess the situation and gather intelligence. You’re telling me you want to run now and leave that,” She pointed at the ominous green ring glowering in the sky, “behind us?”

“I think it’s fairly obvious that was an act of war, a war that is still being waged across Thedas. We must regroup and call upon other allies. We can’t deal with this as we are now.”

“We’re not leaving.”

“You are not in command of this outpost!”

Kallian grit her teeth. “Then you can wait for Seeker Penteghast to get here, and she can tell you that we’re not leaving.” She growled, and turned back to the table containing the updated maps of the area. “Where are the mages who came with Enchanter Fiona’s advocate?”

“They fled during the first attacks,” a soldier said, withering under a glare from the Templar commander.

“Damnit!” Kallian barked. “Was no one watching them?”

“We were a bit busy with trying to save our lives. And the Nevarran Accord was annulled, hence our presence here, if you’ll recall.” Alain said.  
Kallian ignored him. “Send a party after them. They can’t have gone far.”

“Leave them. If they’re eager to die, let them.”

Kallian barely turned her head to glare over her shoulder. “Your men are sworn to guard the mages, Alain. Unless you wanna take off that armor and hand over your fucking lyrium, I’ll assume that hasn’t changed. Go. After. Them. Obviously, this shit is magical in nature; we need them.”

“I will reiterate that you are not in command.”

“You are in command of your men, and your charges are running loose! Do I have to spell this out for you?” Kallian rested a hand on the table and glared at him until he huffed and walked away. When he began barking at his men, she hoped that it was orders to assemble a search party and turned back to matters at hand. “Wescott, what’s the situation with the wall?”

“Ser Tabris, Seeker Penteghast and Sister Nightingale approach from the southern road!”

Kallian felt the tension run out of her body until she nearly sagged from relief. “Thank the Maker,” she breathed. “Ainsley, open the gates. Have someone ready to get their horses. Wescott… they alright?”

Wescott gave her a shaky grin. “They seem well, if in a hurry. There’s a dwarf riding with them.”

Kallian nodded. “Alright. Thanks. Let Alain know his precious commander is here and tell the men to get ready to receive orders. I imagine we’re gonna be here a while.” She sighed.

“Yes, Ser.” Wescott clasped a fist to her chest in salute and trotted off as the gates groaned opened, and Kallian turned back to the command post to prepare.

**

Kallian had settled for pacing. 

Everything that could be seen to, had been; her reports were ready, she’d been updated on the status of the soldiers, the structural integrity of the wall was sound, all the information she had on the situation was ready to go. That checklist had only taken about ten minutes. Cassandra and Leliana were still a few minutes out. With nothing else to do for the first time since she’d arrived, in this brief span of time before she handed the reins over, she slowly walked the meager breadth of the tent. When they got here, she would have to tell them what happened. She would have to tell Leliana that Justinia was dead. Justinia was dead, and Kallian was here and couldn’t stop it. She twisted her fingers together as she paced.

The Divine was dead.

She was dead, along with all those people with her at the Conclave. 

Kallian stopped and closed her eyes. She tucked her hands under her arms to try and warm them up, finally noticing just how damn cold they were. How cold all of her was. Cold and tired. 

She turned her head to look out past the rough wooden wall at the mountains. She hated this place. It was a bad place. The things that had been done here were…evil. It had seeped into the ground and lingered to infect anyone and anything else that came here. It was a sick juxtaposition that the most sacred place for Andraste’s followers was at the heart of this filth. No matter how long it had been since the clean-up and rebuilding, Kallian would never forget their first venture into the town of Haven.   
An unconscious grimace had worked itself onto her face, and Wescott hesitated at the corner of the tent when she noticed.

“Ser Tabris?”

Kallian blinked at her. “They’re here?”

“Just arriving.”

Kallian moved briskly past the scout without another word. While she may not be eager to lay out the situation they found themselves in or the confirmation of the Divine’s death, she was still anxious to see them. 

One of them in particular.

Kallian had been gone for over a month before all this, and while she and Leliana were apart on occasion for various work-related missions it was seldom for so long. She trotted down the stairs that led into the square just as the horses were coming through the south gate.

“Kallian!”

Leliana swung down off her horse before it had stopped moving, still prancing and lathered from what was apparently a long, anxious ride. Kallian barely remembered the last few steps she took before she was wrapped in her wife’s arms. She clung to her tightly, burying her face against Leliana's neck and closed her eyes. 

“Thank the Maker,” Cassandra said, getting down from her own mount with less haste. A soldier stood by to gather the reins from her, and she handed them off before coming over to them. “We encountered some of our soldiers coming into the valley and they warned us of demons. They told us you were here, but it is a comfort to see it with our own eyes.”

Kallian barely heard her. She heard Leliana’s heart and Leliana’s breath and felt Leliana’s warmth and for an all too brief moment, the world was just as it should be.  
Leliana released her hold just enough to pull back and look at Kallian, touching her face as if to reassure herself she was truly there. “We saw the explosion from further in the hills. I…Maker, I knew you were coming here…” Leliana sighed and closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Kallian’s. “Thank the Maker you're safe.”

“I was late coming in. There was a fight, so I stopped to calm people down, and… Leli, I’m sorry…”

“No, love. You’re here—“

“I mean…Justinia… I—She was in there and I couldn’t help her. She’s gone. I’m sorry…”

Leliana’s brow knit as she looked toward the site of the temple. 

Cassandra clasped a gloved hand on the back of Kallian’s neck, her face drawn. “Let us go inside. We have much to talk about.”


	4. Chapter 4

The old tavern was empty except for the three of them. The few lanterns they had lit merely added to the gloom of the dark interior rather than dispel it, creating a stinging haze of smoke that gathered in the rafters.

An ale keg had been tapped, brought courtesy of the soldiers stationed at Haven, and crouched on the edge of the bar top. Kallian and Leliana sat in a booth across from Cassandra. They each had a mug resting on the table before them, and Cassandra hovered over hers as she spoke.

“It all feels like a wild goose chase now,” she was saying, frowning down at the tabletop. “I don’t know that a scapegoat would have done enough to soothe ruffled feathers…especially now, seeing what has happened.”

“I don’t know what happened in there, Cass,” Kallian spoke up, weariness in her voice. “Everyone thinks a mage or something probably did this to make some kind of statement and maybe they did, but my gut tells me it’s something else. They were all meeting to try and come to an agreement. Why ruin the only chance of that?”

“People who are desperate do things sometimes that don’t make sense in hindsight,” Cass sighed. “Look at Kirkwall.”

“I know.” Kallian frowned.

“This isn’t like Kirkwall.” Leliana leaned back in the stall, one hand resting on Kallian’s back.

Cassandra tilted her head in agreement.

“What about the mage you said appeared shortly after the explosion… Solas?” Leliana asked after a period of quiet.

“Yeah. He said something about the Fade. He said it expressed…something. I don’t know.” She growled, frustrated. “He’s still out with the scouts I sent into the temple ruins. He knew something.”

“We will keep an eye on him. But right now he is the only one who seems to know anything.”

“What if it was him, Le?” Kallian glanced over her shoulder at the former bard. “He killed a Rage demon all by himself. Froze it or…something. Then it just disappeared.”

“If it was, we will find out. You did the right thing.”

“I know you don’t want to hear of it,” Cassandra drew herself up a little, eyeing the women across the booth solemnly. “We must speak of reforming the Inquisition. And Kallian is still our best choice to lead it. She is a commander, the soldiers respect her,” she tapered off her speech as Kallian was already shaking her head 'no'.

“You think now is the time to speak of this again?” Leliana said, her brows knitting in disapproval.

“I think now is the only time to speak of it. Leliana...we are on our own out here. The mages, the Templars...they have no intention of dealing with this. And the Chantry has been decimated.”

Cassandra paused to let her words sink in, then continued. “Declaring an Inquisition will galvanize the troops, give some legitimacy to our cause, allow us a platform to call upon allies. We need this now more than ever.”

“I agree,” Kallian said. “But as before, we need a leader--you two don't want to do it and I've said before I am not the leader an Inquisition needs. Far from it. I'm a wanted fugitive, any titles I have are given to me by Alistair--”

“With the Ferelden people's support.”

“Did you miss the 'wanted fugitive' part?”

“In one Arling,” Cassandra continued to protest.

Kallian sighed. “If you want Ferelden support, that I can swing. But the Amaranthine nobility won't get behind it and neither Ferelden nor Orlais wants to create more tension. When the other noble houses get wind of it the controversy will kill the Inquisition before it even begins. In this case, my 'fame' isn't going to work in our favor.”

“It is a moot point,” Leliana said, cutting Cassandra off before she could continue the argument. “Declaring an Inquisition now would cast suspicion on us. We form an inquisition immediately on the heels of the Divine's death? Without so much as a day's passing? Perhaps we devised the entire thing, maybe this was a coup. No,” she continued. “We must assess, take stock of our situation and resources. Identify the threat. That will be expected. The Inquisition must come after.”

“We have the writ Divine Justinia left behind and our loyalty is well known. If we delay too long, other forces will seek to fill the vacuum left behind,” Cassandra told her.

“I understand that, but appearances are everything. You can wave all the 'proof' of Justinia's wishes you like and all that will matter is how it can be spun. It's too soon. It cannot appear as if we are taking advantage of this chaos. It must be deliberate, not reactionary.” Leliana frowned across the booth.

“We aren't in agreement. We have to table this.” Kallian declared.

“It is two against one.”

“Hardly-” Kallian began as the door to their temporary sanctuary creaked open.

“Messeres, I'm sorry to interrupt your council,” The soldier who stepped through the doorway said hastily, clasping a fist to his chest as he bowed his head.

“What is it?” Kallian snapped.

“The party you sent to scout the ruins has returned, Commander. They say there is a survivor.”

**

Leliana stood with her arms folded tightly at the end of the hallway. Torches had been brought in and their tall, still flames threw the shadows of bars over the figure crumpled in the cell.

At the stairway leading down into the dungeon, the small underground room barely worthy of the name, Kallian spoke quietly to one of the soldiers who had brought in the prisoner.

Leliana's face was stone, but inside she wanted to weep.

The three of them--she, Kallian and Cassandra--had burst out of the tavern when the scout had brought them the news. A survivor of the Temple explosion. It was unbelievable. Leliana had seen the ruins. How could anyone have survived?

_It's her. It's Justinia._

Leliana's heartbeat tripped along as they had trotted to the gates to meet the scouting party. She grit her teeth now, hating that brief glimmer of hope. So foolish.

The hollow feeling in her chest when she caught sight of the survivor hadn't abated, and behind her eyes she felt heat and pressure. She would not allow herself to cry. Far from it. It was an impulse so unthinkable right now as to be unworthy of even dismissing. It simply could not exist.

She didn't break her fixed glare on the prisoner as she heard Kallian walk up behind her. Wisely, Kallian didn't try and touch her, though she knew the elf wanted to. If she did, the hold Leliana had on her emotions would vanish like mist.

“They found her in the center of the temple ruins. Said it looked like the Maker had reached down and set her there without a mark on her. Couple of them said they saw a green flash and someone else there but they didn't find anyone but her.” Kallian's voice was barely above a whisper, and sounded somehow fierce and apologetic at the same time. Leliana only nodded once without turning around.

If this woman was the only survivor, then it stood to reason she had something to do with this, or knew who did. They would have an answer soon enough. She lived, and the Divine didn't. That alone was a crime as far as Leliana was concerned. The heat flared again behind her eyes, and Leliana dismissed her thoughts firmly.

The two of them stood quietly watching until Cassandra came down into the cellar dungeon with another guard. Cassandra stopped beside Leliana and the guard carried a bucket filled with water to the outside wall of the cell and set it down. With a nod at the group, he turned and headed back outside.

Kallian ducked her head a little, glancing at Leliana and Cassandra. “I'll head to the front. Get the men ready to try and secure the Temple.” Only hesitating for a few heartbeats and with a final glance at the prisoner, she too left.

“Did Solas say what that is on her hand?” Cassandra wondered, peering through the bars at the still prisoner.

Drawn from her thoughts, Leliana glanced at the faint green glow emitting from the prisoner and shrugged a little. “He said it was some type of raw magic that is tied to the rifts but he does not yet know in what way. He was able to stabilize it for the moment. Right now I think she owes us some answers.”

Grimly, Cassandra nodded once and opened the cell door. Guards were standing by in the corners of the room and they suddenly tensed, giving the prisoner their full attention. Crouching down, Cassandra shook the prisoner's shoulder hard. She didn't respond. Tilting her head a little in an 'oh well, I tried' gesture, she reached for the bucket.

The prisoner came to explosively, sputtering and holding her hands out against the icy water Cassandra had dumped on her face.

Cassandra set the bucket down and circled the woman slowly, waiting until she had composed herself.

Leliana had stepped forward into the light from the grate overhead. Her face was still mostly shrouded in the darkness of her hood but even so Cassandra could tell she was angry. The prisoner looked from Cassandra to Leliana, still panting from her rude awakening. “What is this? What's going on?”

Cassandra circled the prisoner in her little cell, letting her stew for a few moments. Once she felt the prisoner had gained enough of her senses to realize what kind of trouble she was in, she spoke.

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

The woman gaped at her, her face showing only bafflement. Cassandra was beginning to lose her patience, if she'd had any to begin with. “Explain this,” she growled, hauling the prisoner's bound left hand up to display the green glow emitting from it. The mark sparked angrily in response, startling the woman.

“I... can't,” She stammered.

“What do you mean 'you can't?'”

“I don't know what that is...or how it got there--”

“You're lying!” Cassandra grabbed the woman by her coat, hauling her to her feet and snarling the words into her face. The woman balked and tried to scramble back away from the angry Seeker. Leliana stepped forward and pulled Cassandra off of her, pushing her back several steps.

“We need her, Cassandra,” Leliana hissed.

“I don't understand,” the prisoner said, drawing both the former bard and the Seeker's attention and forestalling anything more Leliana might have said.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Leliana asked.

“I remember...running. Things were chasing me and then...a woman?”

“A woman? Who? Who was she?” Leliana barked, grasping hold of the prisoner's collar.

Before she could respond, the prisoner gasped as the mark on her hand flared again, snapping the air around it with crackling energy. It caused Leliana to let her go and back a few steps away.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will deal with this.”

Leliana started to protest, bristling as Cassandra's dismissal. The Seeker's expression was stern, and Leliana wondered what she was thinking. Did she intend to beat the information out of the prisoner? Surely not.

Nevertheless, it looked like it would be a while before the woman started saying anything resembling sense. One of the last Chantry representatives of rank had been making a lot of noise. She would head them off and return, determined to find out what woman the prisoner spoke of. Tilting her head a little in acknowledgment, she turned and stalked out of the room.

“What did happen?” The prisoner asked meekly once Leliana had left the room.

Cassandra turned back to her, arms crossed over her chest. Her stern expression hadn't softened any, but after a few moments, she finally relented. “The Temple of Sacred Ashes was destroyed utterly. In the sky above it, there appears to be a large tear leading to the Fade, growing larger by the hour. Smaller tears—rifts, our so-called expert calls them—keep appearing around the valley and there are some initial reports of the same phenomenon in the Hinterlands. We do not know how wide-spread it is, or how much further it will go. So far, you are our only lead. How did you walk away from it?”

“I...I can't remember what happened. I arrived at the Conclave and there was... I was waiting for the Divine. I never saw her. I was talking to a dwarf. That's all I know, I swear.”

“A dwarf,” Cassandra sneered.

The prisoner held up one of her bound hands defensively as Cassandra stalked toward her again. “I swear! I am Neve Trevelyan of Albrecht, in the Free Marches. Send word to my parents, they will tell you my business at the Conclave was legitimate! I wouldn't hurt anyone!”

Without warning, the mark on the prisoner's hand flared brightly, throwing sickly green light over the whole dungeon. She screamed in pain, grabbing her wrist and doubling over.

“Go, get one of the healers,” Cassandra barked to the guard nearest the door, starting forward to grab the prisoner but stopping herself. He took off at a run.

Neve was holding her glowing hand by the wrist, teeth grit firmly to bite back another scream and staring at it in disbelief. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cold of the dungeon.

Solas had gone with Varric and a larger group of scouts to examine the Breach as he called it, the large rift at the ruins of the temple. He wouldn't be back any time soon. Cassandra grabbed the woman as her knees buckled.

After several agonizing moments, the guard returned, skidding to a halt just inside the door and staring at the still-flaring mark on Neve's hand.

“They won't come, my lady,” The guard said to Cassandra as he edged back toward the door. “They are afraid of the mark.”

_“Then make them come,”_ Cassandra snarled. Neve gasped and sagged against her as the mark pulsed again, her body contracting hard against the pain.

Gritting her teeth, Cassandra hauled Neve up onto her feet. Resolving to carry her the entire way if she must, Cassandra tightened her grip on the woman and went to find Solas.

**

“What did you do?”

Neve stared down at her left hand as the sparking glow died down now that the rift was sealed.

It had been a short walk before she and the Seeker—Cassandra, she had told her—found the people she was evidently looking for, but Neve was still glad to not have to be dragged the entire way. The mark had stopped flaring right after they made it outside of the dungeon--a good thing since demons roamed the area around Haven and the temple ruins, coming from the green tears ripped open in the air itself. Neve was still having a hard time coming to terms with everything that had happened. One moment, the world was the way she knew, a comfortable familiarity, and the next she was at the center of this madness.

Now a bald elven man pointed her hand at one of the tears and made it disappear.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

Neve just looked at him.

“You know what this thing is? What happened to me?” Neve held up her left hand as she spoke, eyeing the elf in suspicion.

“No. Earlier as I was examining it before you woke, I noticed the mark seemed to flare in time with the Breach. The magical signature, also, seems to be the same. They said you stepped out of a rift before, and I theorized the mark may have a connection. It was a hunch, and it seems I was correct.”

“Good to know. Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever,” a wry voice cut in. A dwarf in a leather coat was just hanging the elaborate crossbow he'd been using against the demons over his shoulder, smirking at them.

“Nice crossbow,” Neve remarked.

“Isn't she? Her name's Bianca. I'm Varric Tethras.”

“Neve Trevelyan.”

“A pleasure. I guess since you aren't in chains anymore that you'll be coming with us into the valley?”

_“Us?”_ Cassandra frowned at the dwarf. “Varric, your help is appreciated but you are no longer needed. You won't be telling your story to the Divine, as you can see.”

“And you have all the help you could ever need, right Seeker? The mages and the Templars are falling over themselves to help deal with this shit,” Varric held up his hands at the sour expression on Cassandra's face. “Look, you need things shot, and I need to shoot things. I'll stick around and help out.”

Cassandra sighed heavily, hands on her hips as she glared at the dwarf. “Fine. Come,” she gestured down the snow-covered path. “We will meet up with the rest of our forces and get into the ruins. Maker willing, that mark will be able to solve all of this.”

**

The four of them arrived at the forward camp to see a blur of activity. Soldiers were moving equipment and supplies onto waiting carts and reinforcing the gate at the opposite end of the bridge which allowed entrance to the Temple. Neve saw bundles wrapped in linen lined up along the side of the bridge. As they got closer, she could tell that they were bodies. She grimaced and looked to Cassandra at her side, who was just noticing them as well. The Seeker looked back at her sternly before stalking ahead of them toward the front gate.

A man in Chantry robes leaned over a table off to one side containing hastily spread maps and other bits of communique regarding their situation, presumably. The woman who had been in the cell with Cassandra stood nearby, an angry expression on her face as she spoke to him, the biting wind carrying their words away. Next to her, an elf with dark wavy hair in a long coat and silverite armor pinched the bridge of her nose wearily, arms crossed over her chest. As Neve got closer, she could see she had griffons stamped into the plate of her pauldrons. A Grey Warden, then. Neve's eyes grew wider and she stopped, staring.

“That's Kallian Tabris?” She hissed suddenly. Solas and Varric both paused, noticing that Neve was no longer with them.

“You know her?” Varric blinked.

“Yes—I...I mean no, I...we've never met. I was in Denerim after the Blight. Everyone was in Denerim. My parents brought us... I saw her then. What's she doing here??”

“You have a good memory. The Blight has been over for a decade,” Solas pointed out.

Neve frowned at him. “You don't forget the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Well, come on. I can assure you she's very much a normal person.” Varric chuckled.

Hesitating for another beat, Neve walked toward the table after the others.

“Order me? You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat,” Cassandra was saying to the man, disgust in her voice.

“And you are a thug, but one that supposedly serves the Chantry!” He fired back at her.

“'The Chantry' here meaning 'The Most Holy', Roderick. Not _you_.” The hooded woman from the dungeon snapped at him.

“Leliana, how many soldiers do we have able to secure the ruins?” Cassandra asked her, ignoring the gape-mouthed expression Roderick made at the question.

“Enough. Do you have a plan?”

“It seems our prisoner has a hidden talent in regards to the rifts. If we can get her inside, she may be able to put a stop to this immediately.”

“Then the only demons we have left to deal with will be in Chantry robes. Sounds like a plan,” Tabris said, crossing her arms as she and Roderick glared at each other.  
“The prisoner is the one who brought this on us in the first place! And you have no business here whatsoever, Warden!”

“Careful, Roderick. You keep opening your mouth and showing how little you know,” Tabris growled.

“Whether she did or not is irrelevant. What matters is she may be able to stop it. Kallian and I will gather the rest of the men in the valley and clear out resistance. We will meet you at the Temple,” Leliana directed the last to Cassandra, forwarding a stern, suspicious look at Neve before turning to speak with the gathered soldiers.

**

The ruins of the temple were charred stacks of stone and broken walls, scattered with the twisted remains of ironwork and artifice. The scent of scorched rock and wood was everywhere, occasionally overlaid by more sinister odors even the whipping cold wind of the mountain was unable to clear out. In the debris, Neve thought she was looking at a sharp piece of stone jutting up from beneath a section of wall. As she neared, the shape and texture of the rock told her she was actually looking at the remains of an elbow. 

As they walked along what was once probably a wall, Leliana suddenly stumbled. Tabris was at her side in an instant, catching hold of her arm to keep her from falling and supporting her as she recovered. “Are you okay?”

Leliana's reply was too low for Neve to hear, but Cassandra walked over to her in concern and spoke causing Leliana to shake her head, lips pressed into a grim line.  
“Just walk on this side of me,” Tabris said in a low voice. Neve wasn't able to catch anything else that was said between them, but the archer looked exhausted.

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker,” Varric said as they passed yet another formation of the substance.

“I see it, Varric,” Cassandra replied brusquely.

Neve hadn't thought to even ask about it, assuming it had simply been some sort of crystal growth.

“This is _lyrium_?”

“Yeah, like a dragon is a lizard.” He shook his head. “I don't know how it got here, but it's evil shit. Whatever you do, don't touch it,” Varric told her.

“Scouts failed to mention this shit was everywhere,” Tabris stated grumpily.

“Then let us do this quickly--” Cassandra began, only to be cut off by a booming voice that filled the remains of the temple.

_“Keep the sacrifice still,”_ a male voice said.

_“Someone! Help me!”_

“That is Justinia!” Leliana gasped, nearly staggering again as she stared up at the rift. 

The group watched the ghosts of images play out high above the ruins, projected in the green mists emitting from the rift. A large hooded figure dwarfed the shade of Divine Justinia, who seemed to be held aloft by some kind of magic, arms outstretched.

A familiar form appeared, staggering to a shocked halt nearby. _“What’s going on here!?”_

“...That is your voice,” Cassandra said in dawning understanding. Quickly her face darkened with anger as she turned to Neve. “She called out to you. You said you never saw her!”

“I don't remember! I swear, I don't remember this happening!” Neve said in alarm. She gaped up at the image before them, at a loss.

“The Fade bleeds into this place,” Solas said quietly, glancing at Cassandra. “The events surrounding this moment are likely the cause of everything.” Looking at Neve, he gestured at the large rift above. “The rift is closed but not sealed. If you seal it, it will likely seal the Breach but first, it must be opened so that it can be sealed properly. That will attract attention from the other side,” Solas explained.

“That means demons. Stand ready,” Cassandra ordered the surrounding soldiers.

Glancing to her side, Neve saw Leliana and Tabris readying weapons. Leliana seemed pale but determined, whatever had afflicted her earlier seemingly pushed back for now. Above on the wall, the archers readied their bows, and the soldiers in the pit with them tensed, holding their weapons in hand. Cassandra met her eyes as she looked her way, giving her a nod as she hefted her shield. 

Lifting her left hand, Neve hesitantly aimed her palm at the closed rift. For a second she thought it wouldn’t work again, that maybe the first time had been a fluke or that Solas had done something after all in order to activate the mark. She didn’t have long to worry. Her hand snapped toward the rift as if drawn by a magnet as she held it outward. A rippling beam of green light connected the mark to the rent in the air and Neve began to feel it pulling at her arm. Ripping her hand back, the rift tore open with a rumbling crack Neve could feel all the way through her body. Green light poured out, scattering wildly over the ruins. 

For the space of a single heartbeat the rift hung there, a benign window into another world, serene images of the quiet woodlands outside Ostwick shimmering beyond. The sight of tooth-filled faces and beady black eyes shattered the scene, and demons began to climb out and drop to the ground.

Time caught back up with a jolt, and everyone seemed to move at once. Cassandra leaped forward and slammed her shield hard against the horned monster that landed in the center of the ruin. It whipped its head toward her with a baritone roar, standing and swiping a clawed hand the size of a Mabari at her in one slow but fluid motion as she ducked back. The beast was easily ten feet tall and Neve was unable to resist gaping at it before she finally shook off her shock. 

Some smaller demons were starting to come through the rift, engaging the soldiers that surrounded them. Neve gripped the battered sword she had picked up along the road from Haven and started forward, selecting a terror demon that stalked the archers on the wall. Tabris saw her and broke off from harassing the massive demon Cassandra was fighting.

“No, stay back! Get ready to close that thing,” the elf told her, shoving at her shoulder toward a pile of rock.

“Cass! Let's line them up,” Tabris barked, even as she blocked the oncoming claws of another demon with a swipe of her daggers.

The Seeker let out a shrill whistle as Tabris backed off, letting Cassandra draw the attention of the terror. Between the two of them, they managed to draw the smaller demons away from the rift. Above on the ledges surrounding the pit they were in, archers took the opportunity to pick off some of the smaller demons that were being drawn into the open.

Leliana had engaged with a pair of shades that weren't fooled by Cassandra's taunts. One she picked off fairly quickly but the other was closing in. No longer able to shoot at it, Leliana blocked its attack with her bow stave, swiping aside its claws. Ducking aside in one graceful gesture, she spun with an arrow in hand and slammed the point directly into the creature's head. As she ripped it free the shade fell, dissolving into mist.

The large demon lumbered after the Seeker, barking a wicked laugh as it seemed to swell with energy. Tabris leaped from a pile of debris, finally having taken out the terror demon and launched herself at the thing’s back. Her daggers sank deep into its hide and it howled and spun, reaching back in an attempt to dislodge her. Leliana raised her bow to shoot it but kept hesitating, its movements making it difficult not to hit the elf.

Neve grit her teeth and left the crags of rock she had ducked behind. Sword clutched in her hand so tightly she couldn't feel her fingers anymore, she darted out into the open. Flinging her hand toward the rift, the mark flared brightly and sparked. 

As the green light bathing them began to flicker and dim, those fighting the demons looked over at Neve. The mark on her hand was glowing brightly, nearly white in its intensity. Tabris tore her daggers free and leaped down from the big demon’s back, ducking into a roll as she hit the ground. The monster, unable to locate the one who had been clinging to its back, snarled and lunged for Cassandra only to stop mid-motion with a dull shudder. 

An arrow stuck out from one of its eye sockets, a wash of dark blood bubbling from around the shaft and running down its face. It fell forward with a final moan, hitting the ground hard enough to stumble the archers on the wall. Leliana lowered her bow, grimacing at the light coming from the rift.

The air emitted a loud snap that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck as Neve whipped her arm back, and the rift above her winked out of existence leaving silence in its wake. With a single lurch, Neve fell to her knees and collapsed, the world going dark once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and things start to get less canon-y.


	5. Chapter 5

Neve woke once more not knowing where she was or what had happened, but fortunately, it wasn’t to a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head.

She became aware first of the smell of coffee, which was never a bad sign in her book. The scent and sounds of a cheerfully crackling fireplace came next, and she was warm and comfortable beneath a soft blanket of furs.

Sighing in contentment, Neve stretched beneath the cover and turned onto her side, only to then notice the burn of her muscles, the shakiness of her body as she moved. How long had she been asleep to be so weak? 

“So, you _are_ alive,” a wry voice with a light Ferelden accent came from somewhere off to the side of the cabin. “Chancellor Roderick will be thrilled.”

Trembling, Neve lifted her head off the pillow as high as she could, craning her neck to find the source of the voice. 

Tabris sat in one of the chairs beside a small writing table, leaning forward with her elbows braced on her knees, hands clasped before her as she looked her over critically. A book lay on the table that she had likely just been reading as she waited for Neve to wake.

“What’s happened?” Neve finally asked, a bit startled to hear the roughness of her own voice.

“Lots,” Tabris told her. “Tell you what. I need to let the others know you are awake. I’ll stop by the tavern and have them bring you some breakfast and when I get back, I’ll fill you in before they all jump on your head. Sound good?”

Neve nodded and Tabris gave her a brief grin and rose. “Back in a flash.”

Neve managed to stagger out of bed after a few minutes of sitting on the edge of it in a daze. She had just pulled on a soft undershirt and leggings when a light knock at the door signaled what was likely the breakfast from the tavern Tabris had mentioned.

She forced herself to eat slowly, but as soon as she opened the basket and the scent of eggs and sausage wafted up to her nose, food was suddenly the only thing she cared about in the entire world. She paced herself and had only eaten half of it before Kallian returned.

“I’ve seen feral dogs devour a goat with more dignity,” the elf quipped, smirking at her. Neve couldn’t even bring herself to care, stuffing another link of sausage into her mouth.

As she ate, Kallian filled her in on the events that transpired after she collapsed at the Breach. What she heard sobered her appetite.

“They’re calling me the Herald of Andraste?” Neve blinked. “And they’re...happy with me.”

“I don’t know that I would say they're all ‘happy’, but everyone is definitely interested.”

Neve shook her head, still in disbelief. “I couldn’t seal the Breach.”

Kallian frowned at that, reaching over and putting a hand on Neve’s knee kindly. “Hey, you almost died to help stop it from growing. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Maybe we can get you some help and you’ll be able to close it for good. Without going into a coma for a change,” she joked.

Neve blinked. She had forgotten to ask. “How long was I out?”

“It’s been almost four days,” Kallian said, wincing as Neve paled. “Yeah, we were starting to get a little worried.”

It was all getting to be too much to take in. Kallian seemed to understand that Neve was getting overwhelmed and backed off, standing up from her chair. “Well. Take your time but not too much, yeah? The others are waiting for you in the war room inside the Chantry. Just go all the way to the back when you come in.”

Kallian waited for Neve to nod that she understood and then left the cabin. 

Neve sat quietly staring at her hands while her thoughts swirled around her, wishing she could simply wrap herself up and hide in the silence that settled over the room.

**

The trip to Val Royeaux wasn’t the complete waste of time Leliana and Cullen thought it would be. 

When Neve had arrived at the war room, Cassandra, Chancellor Roderick, Tabris, and Leliana were already there along with three others Neve hadn’t met. Knight-Captain Cullen she knew in passing from her trips to Kirkwall and she was relieved to finally see at least a somewhat familiar face, though apparently he no longer held his title. Cassandra introduced the others as Josephine Montilyet of Antiva, an ambassador of some renown, and Mother Giselle from the Hinterlands.

Mother Giselle wasted no time encouraging Neve to meet with the Mothers in Val Royeaux. Though the newly-minted Inquisition hardly wanted to be seen begging the approval of the Chantry, Cassandra had pointed out they had little choice but to at least make contact. They had no resources and no standing with which to approach either the mages or the Templar order for help closing the Breach--the only two powers in Thedas that would be able to assist with such an endeavor.

Leliana had been concerned that there may be forces awaiting them in the capital that would seek to snuff out their fledgling organization by taking out the Herald of Andraste. Therefore Cassandra had offered to go with her, both as protector and representative of the Inquisition, hoping her former position as Right Hand would grant them legitimacy. The writ from Justinia, upon which she and Leliana had declared the Inquisition, would go with them.

Despite the less than encouraging conversation they had with the Lord Seeker upon their arrival in Val Royeaux and a rather curious meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona, Neve still wanted to seek the help of the Templars with closing the Breach. What Cullen had said about their ability to suppress magic made sense. That was what they wanted, wasn’t it? To suppress the Breach? Neutralize the magic that had made it?

“Therinfal Redoubt is in the Hinterlands,” Cassandra was telling her. “If you are certain you wish to approach the Templars for help with the Breach, we will send word immediately. With luck, there will be at least someone of authority there who will speak with us.”

Neve nodded a little, her eyes distant. 

Cassandra let the silence draw out as they rode out of the capital, clearly uncomfortable. After a while, she finally resolved to try and coax Neve out of her sullen contemplation.

“Do you wish to talk about what is troubling you? Is it what happened with the Mothers?”

Neve seemed startled as she looked over at Cassandra, blinking. “No. No, it’s nothing. I’m all right.”

Cassandra hummed, her expression clearly unconvinced, but she willingly let the subject drop. “In any case, it is good to be out of that city. I do not know what everyone finds so appealing about it. It is beautiful to be sure, but loveliness and convenience lose their appeal to me when I must watch everything I say and every word has a double meaning.”

Neve finally quirked a slight grin. She had spent enough time around the Seeker to know, if nothing else, that she wasn’t much of a talker. It cheered Neve to see the effort she was putting into carrying a conversation with her. 

“That was actually my first visit. It is lovely but I agree with what you said. No one can simply say what they mean.” 

Again, Neve thought of her friend from the temple, her smile fading. “I wish we had been able to see the Grand Cathedral. Someone told me you fought ten dragons there. I would have liked to have seen that,” Neve said, casting a wry grin at the Seeker

Cassandra groaned, giving Neve a pleading look. “Not that old story. If I never hear mention of that tale again I will die a happy woman. As if there is not enough to talk about in the world,” she grumbled.

Neve chuckled, shaking her head. “Do you think we will be able to convince the Lord Seeker to help us?”

“If not him, then some of the other Templars at least. Perhaps he was merely showboating for the benefit of the onlookers. Truly, he was not acting like himself. I have known the man for years, I wouldn’t have imagined he could behave so arrogantly.”

“I’ve met him once. Sort of. He was at my sister’s funeral. Or rather, the memorial service for the Templars at Kirkwall.”

Cassandra stared at her in surprise for several moments. “I did not realize you had a sister who was a Templar.”

Neve nodded her head. “My family has always been very active in the Chantry. It was expected for us to serve in some way. My parents were delighted when Pallas announced that she intended to join.”

“Was a knighthood in your plans as well?”

“I never wanted anything to do with the Templars or the Chantry,” Neve said, an ironic quirk to her lips. “That’s how I wound up at the Conclave, in fact.”

“I think I realized after Kirkwall how much I had taken it all for granted. The Chantry, the Templars...how they kept us safe. I felt like I had been lied to my entire life.” Neve relayed, glancing at the Seeker to find a compassionate look directed back at her. “I was angry. I missed my sister. It felt like everything was falling to me--their expectations, my duty to the family... It was too much, I couldn’t breathe. I...guess I went a little wild. My friends and I were planning to go to Ansberg. It was one of the few places still recruiting Templars.” 

“You wanted to join because of Kirkwall?”

“I wanted to join because I was angry and powerless. I wanted to do something,” Neve explained. “My parents caught me preparing to leave and forced me to go to the Conclave instead. To ‘represent the Trevelyans in sight of the Chantry,’ or some such nonsense. I wanted out of Ostwick so I agreed. I wasn’t planning to go back in any case, no matter what happened.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes, only the sound of the horses’ hooves against the cobbled stone road to mark the passage of time. Finally, Cassandra reached over and patted Neve roughly on the leg. The gesture made Neve feel better. It's something her sister would have done, neither she nor the Seeker resorting to words as their first choice of expression.

Neve smiled over at Cassandra. “I know the Templars can help us.”

“So do I.”

**  
“You know, when Cassandra finds out you went to meet with the rebel mages, she is gonna lose her shit,” Varric chuckled.

He and Kallian were riding together on the King's Highway, just passing the Crossroads. The sun was out, making it what would have been a nice day if it hadn't been so damned cold. They were both bundled in fur-lined cloaks, only their heads and gloved hands visible.

Cassandra and Neve had left for Therinfal the previous day, on the heels of their return from Val Royeaux. The Herald had decided to place her faith in the Templars--a laughable notion, though Kallian had kept her opinion to herself--and the pair of them along with newly recruited Vivienne of Montsimmard and an archer named Sera had gone to the old fortress to meet with the Lord Seeker. She wouldn’t have minded being along for that trip; in her brief time with them, it seemed Vivienne and Sera were about as well-matched as oil and flame.

Cassandra had mentioned in the meeting before she left that it would be wise not to ‘stir up trouble’ and seemed to think the Inquisition shouldn’t get involved with the rebel mages in Redcliffe. Leliana’s reports had indicated otherwise, but neither she nor Kallian saw any reason to mention it. They had decided it would be best for Kallian to at least go and meet with the mages, get a better handle on the situation. The fact that Fiona was there alone made Kallian’s involvement assured. She had been very concerned to learn the mage had ventured to Redcliffe herself considering the state of the war. She would find out soon enough, Kallian supposed, what had drawn the Grand Enchanter from the relative safety of the Reach.

Signs of the fighting between the rebel mages and the Templars still littered the area; discarded weapons, broken fences, scorch marks on the rocks and a general lack of foot traffic all bore testament to the chaos. As they rode past a marker bearing the Inquisition heraldry, Kallian gave it a thoughtful look.

“Is that why you volunteered to come along?” The elf asked idly, turning slightly on her horse to give him a wry look.

“I'm not fond of hearing the word 'don't', especially when it’s coming out of the Seeker's mouth, true. But, it's not like I was doing anything better anyway. Hanging out, watching the sky shit demons on Thedas, waiting for the world to end,” Varric told her.

Kallian chuckled. “Hopefully the mages won't shit demons at you.”

“I can't say it would surprise me if it happened.”

“Why _are_ you still here? You ran around with the Champion, Hawke. Are you hoping to help the Inquisition find a better solution for the mages?”

“No, not really,” Varric sighed after a moment. “To be honest? I don't know why I'm here. I just couldn't turn my back on this. Call me crazy.”

“I understand.”

“Of course _you_ understand. You killed a damn Archdemon and saved the world! I barely helped my friend fight a crazy Templar.”

“It never seems so grand when you're in the middle of it. Afterward, when you hear people talk, it sounds completely made up. I know what happened at Kirkwall. It was hardly one crazed Templar. I think you're a boon to have on the team, Varric, despite how you might downplay your role.”

Varric grinned to himself at the words. It was nice to be appreciated, especially after spending so much time the past couple of weeks around the Seeker.

“So, neither you or Blackwall knows why the Wardens went missing,” Varric said after a period of silence.

Tabris gave him a droll sideways look and debated answering. Finally, she sighed. “I haven't actually been leading the Wardens in Ferelden for some years now. I placed Nathaniel Howe in charge of Vigil Keep when I left and since then I think he promoted someone else. So, no. I'm a bit out of the loop.”

“I would say I'm surprised but that would imply I know anything about how the Grey Wardens work aside from 'they kill Darkspawn'. Is that normal?”

Tabris smirked. “I'm not sure what's normal. My whole tenure as a Warden has been one unusual circumstance after another. After Amaranthine, they were more than happy to avoid evidence of...conflicting interests, I suppose. They let me fade into the woodwork so to speak, and keep my title.”

“There were a lot of rumors about what happened at Amaranthine...” Varric noticed Kallian’s jaw tense, but when she didn’t interrupt him, he pressed on while he had the opportunity. “The official story is the Wardens razed the city to slow down the Darkspawn from reaching Vigil keep to give the rest of the army time to rally, but only an idiot believes the official story.”

Kallian smiled in a way that said she had the same motto. “It’s not far off, really. You didn’t mention the rumors that went around. They said I did it because I’m an elf and I hate humans. They said I was really working for the Darkspawn,” She paused to give the dwarf an incredulous look, causing him to chuckle. “They said I was paid off by Elena Cousland from Highever to get back at the Howes. Stupid. The truth is that the city was overrun. Most of the civilians were infected with the Blight. We had the choice to stay and clear the city, or go back and save the Keep before they were slaughtered.”

“It had nothing to do with Leliana being at the Keep?”

Kallian quirked a brow at the dwarf, her body tensing up. “You heard some very in-depth rumors.”

“Anders was a friend of mine. Past tense,” Varric added under his breath.

“I see. I didn’t know she was at the Keep until I got back, or that she would even be coming. We were supposed to meet in Val Royeaux when the campaign was over. So, no. It didn’t factor into my decision.”

“Ah well. So much for the romance angle... Wait, so you were already planning to leave after the war was over?”

“…Maker’s balls, what’s with the interrogation? This is ancient history, anyway. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“I just wanna get the details right for when I characterize you for the book.”

“No. I don’t wanna be in your book,” Kallian told him grumpily.

“Of course, I—“

“I said no. There’s already a story about me. I’m just helping out; I’m not important.”

Varric smirked and mentally filed away another tidbit of information. “Whatever you say, Feathers. You never did say why you left.”

“No, I didn't,” Kallian said tonelessly, her expression growing more closed.

Varric held up his hands defensively and let the subject drop.

Both were quiet until they reached the wall surrounding Redcliffe Village. The gates were shut and an alert guard was posted outside to warn travellers away, Kallian presumed. Leliana’s scouts had been in the village since just shortly after they had secured Haven and they had known the village was being locked down due to the presence of the rebels. Kallian drew her horse up to the gate and stopped, waiting for the guard to approach.

“Town’s closed, sers. If you need help, try the Crossroads.”

“My friend and I are here to speak with the Grand Enchanter.”

“Not letting anyone in. Sorry.” The guard seemed to think that would be the end of the conversation and was merely waiting for them to take the hint. Poor bastard had probably been repeating himself all day and heard every excuse in the book. Too bad Kallian wasn’t prepared to turn back.

“I know you’re just doing what you’ve been told, but I’m going into Redcliffe. You are welcome to report me to your commander afterward. Open the gate.”

The guard opened his mouth then paused, unsure what to do with the turn of events. While he grappled, Kallian moved to get down off her horse and open the gates herself until Varric spoke up.

“I guess we’ll have to go back and tell Bann Teagan his entourage got turned away at the gates of his own village. I can’t wait to see the look on his face. What was your name, kid?” Varric asked, peering down at the guard’s reddening face.

“Just go in. My orders are only to warn people away. It’s your own hides if you run into trouble.”

Kallian sat back in her saddle and smirked over at the dwarf as they waited for the man to open the gate.

“Thanks for the assist. Didn’t really want to have to name drop right out of the bag,” Kallian told Varric dryly once they were past the gates and away from the guards.

“I figured. Not really encouraging that they have the whole town closed off.”

“Our reports mentioned it but no one really said why. Probably has to do with trying to keep the mages safe from what’s left of the Templars out here. I hope Fiona can clear this up. Things aren’t making sense,” Kallian groused. 

“I guess you know the Grand Enchanter pretty well,” Varric offered.

“Well enough.”

Kallian pulled her horse to a stop as they reached the town square. Varric looked over at her curiously, noting her expression as she stared at the large stone monument before them. Sliding down off of his own horse, he walked over to read the plaque attached to it.

“Oh,” was all he said, peering over his shoulder at Tabris with a grimace.

“I knew it was ugly but I hadn’t actually seen it until now,” Kallian told him, wrinkling her nose up at the statue.

It was a huge thing, probably the size of two draft horses stacked on top of each other. An attempt had been made to get the carving to resemble a griffon, Kallian supposed, but the result was...well. At least there was a helpful plaque attached to the base to explain what it was. She was being ungrateful, she knew. These people had attempted to do her honor for saving them from a horde of undead all those years ago. 

“Kallian Tabris?” An uncertain voice asked from nearby. Kallian turned to see a young man standing beside the monument. It took her a moment to place him, but once she registered the red hair and freckles and who he resembled, both her brows rose in surprise.

“Connor?”

A relieved grin broke out over Connor’s face and he all but fell into her arms, hugging her tightly, much to both her and Varric’s surprise. After a moment’s recovery, Kallian patted him on the back then pulled away, grasping him by the shoulders. “I am--...to say it’s a surprise to see you here is an understatement,” Kallian finally settled on.

“I could say the same of you. I thought--I knew no good could come of coming back here but then I saw you! Are you here to help us? Only you would be able to,” Connor said, watching her with guileless if tired eyes.  
“I think maybe we better go sit down and you tell me exactly what’s going on.” 

Connor nodded and looked over at the dwarf who was watching them curiously. 

“This is Varric Tethras, a friend of mine. Varric, Connor Guerrin of Redcliffe, Arl Eamon’s son.” Kallian said.

“I thought so. Wow, kid, you picked a hell of a time to show up,” Varric told him as they settled on a bench out of the way of the square and hopefully most listening ears. 

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Connor chuckled weakly. “King Alistair offered the mages sanctuary after the Circles fell. You must already know that part or you wouldn’t be here,” Connor began. Kallian nodded a little, encouraging him to continue. 

“After we got here, these other mages showed up. They were from Tevinter. A Magister was leading them. They took over the castle, sent my uncle away. The Grand Enchanter is in there with him; no one has seen any of them in days.”

Connor looked up at the elf. “She allied with them… She made a deal with Tevinter to protect us,” He told her miserably. 

Kallian met Varric’s eyes past Connor, her expression as dire as his. “Connor… That can’t--” She stopped talking, her lips pressed tightly. “How did a mage from Tevinter get here so quickly? You haven’t been here long enough for word to travel so far…”

“I don’t know. But I’m not lying,” Connor said, shaking his head. 

“I believe you,” Kallian reassured him. 

“Are you going to help us? We can’t do this...the whole country will turn against us, worse than they already have. I’m not saying we don’t deserve it, but more people will die if this fighting doesn’t stop.”

“Leave it to me,” Kallian told him kindly. “We are with the Inquisition now. I’ll go back and bring enough soldiers to convince this magister that taking advantage of you all is a seriously bad idea.”

Connor looked so relieved that he might faint. “Thank you… I knew you would help.”

Kallian and Varric shared another look, this time resolved.

“We are going to help you. Just sit tight.”


	6. Chapter 6

Despite their success at Therinfal Redoubt, everyone was soon at each other's throats again when Neve and the others returned to Haven that evening and called a meeting.

Neve had thought that things might finally calm down now that the Inquisition had made a move toward finding help for the Breach. A huge weight had lifted off of her shoulders once they had secured the aid of the Templars. Everyone was depending on her. She was the only one that could actually stop all of this. Now she might finally have the means. This might all be over soon.

Unfortunately, Cassandra had learned that Kallian had gone to Redcliffe to meet with the rebel mages while they were at Therinfal.

Neve thought Cass had been angry the day she had jerked her to her feet by her coat, screaming in her face about how she was lying about not remembering the explosion at the temple. That fit of temper paled in comparison to the fury Neve saw on Cassandra’s face as she went to hunt down Leliana

Following after the Seeker as if she had some hope of calming her down, they found the spymaster at the command tent, as usual. The expression on Leliana’s face when she saw them coming was admirably mild as Cassandra bore down on her, and before she could open her mouth Leliana directed them all inside the Chantry.

For the most part, Neve listened and waited for a break in the yelling which took place in three languages that she could recognize. Cullen had tried to intervene near the beginning and was quickly shut down by both the Seeker and the Spymaster.

Josephine had stuck her head in the war room when they first arrived, but rather than try to stop them she merely stood beside Neve with her arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line as she waited for the initial furor to die down.

They all startled as the door slammed shut, turning to find Kallian, road-weary and dirty, glaring at them.

“What's with all the yelling?”

Cassandra snorted. “And here you are! Back from Redcliffe, where you were not to go. What did you sign us up for?”

Kallian glared wearily at the taller woman. “You don't forbid me from going anywhere, first of all. Second, I don't have any authority to treat on behalf of the Inquisition. I went to assess the damage, nothing more.”

“Do not try to play this off on a technicality! You are trying to undermine me, Cullen, AND the Inquisition! You went behind our backs-”

“You would ignore a threat on our doorstep!” Leliana jumped back in. “I am the one who asked Kallian to go. If you are going to focus all of the Inquisition's efforts on acquiring the Templars' aid, then I must keep an eye on the situation in Redcliffe myself and intervene if necessary. We must at _least_ know what is going on. You are out of line--”

“ _I!?_ We practically _begged_ her to be a leader and instead she goes off chasing her own agenda— _your_ agenda—and leads our agents off with her!” Cassandra accused, pointing at Kallian across the table, who stiffened angrily in response.

“I'm not trying to lead anyone!” Kallian snapped. “I'm trying to do what has to be done when you will only see what is right in front of you, as usual! I don't have-”

“HEY!”

Neve fought not to take a step back when four angry faces turned toward her in silence, not having thought she would get their attention so easily. Instead, she stalked determinedly toward the war table.

“You wanted help closing the Breach. I got help. That's all we should be focusing on right now, all we _can_ focus on. Closing the Breach must come before anything else; before we can help the mages, before we can stop a fucking war, before any of it. ”

No one looked ready to let go of their grievances quite yet, but they all nodded or made some motion of acknowledgment.

Into the awkward quiet that lasted for several moments, Kallian cleared her throat and addressed Neve.

“You should know, and since everyone is here... the rebel mages have sold themselves to Tevinter. A magister is at Redcliffe Castle but I wasn't able to speak with him or anyone else with any authority. I _suggest_ ,” Kallian paused in the wake of her announcement, cutting her eyes briefly towards Cullen and Cassandra, “that the Inquisition make plans to deal with the situation soon, or it will quickly get out of hand.”

Neve felt ill, but merely nodded. “As soon as enough Templars arrive we will be ready to close the Breach. They should be here by morning,” she said.

“Kallian,” Leliana said, leaning on the war table with her palms braced against it. “Were Tevinter troops there in force?”

“Not that I saw. Didn't really see any troops there, mostly just Chantry sisters and mages. The others had gone up to the castle.”

“Rumor, then. The mages probably made it up.”

Kallian narrowed her eyes at Cullen. “The person who told me had no reason to make it up.”

“And who was it, this source?”

“Someone I know that wouldn’t lie to me,” Kallian hedged.

Cassandra tossed her hands up in frustration. “Is this where we are now? Dodging questions and keeping things from each other?”

“Please, Cassandra. Let's not continue to fight. We have enough to worry about without accusing one another.” Josephine said.

“Well,” Kallian inserted dryly into the period of silence that followed. “I sense my work here is done. I'll be outside if you need me,” she told them, bowing slightly before turning and leaving the war room.

**

Neve wandered from the Chantry in a haze. The whirlwind of the past several days still hadn’t settled with her and with nothing to occupy her time until the morning, she felt adrift. The night was clear and brisk as ever, though it seemed the wind had died down after the snow had stopped falling just before nightfall.

Tugging her long coat more closely around her, she stopped to watch the stars. Often, at home in Albrecht—her family’s estate founded and named for her great-times-whatever grandfather—she would stand on the balcony overlooking the choppy waters of Brandel’s Cut and watch the moon drift across the sky.

Sometimes she would even glimpse a shooting star, or what Master Piken called a comet--lessons on the patterns of stars and other heavenly bodies being some of the few she’d paid attention to. The stars never looked clearer than they did over the ocean, though the cold sky of the Frostbacks came close.

Most of the inhabitants of the mountain village had retired for the night, either to their bunks or to the tavern, and Neve thought she might visit the latter. Maybe to wheedle a couple of tales from Varric before turning in, herself. The first of the Templars would be arriving in the morning to help seal the Breach. Neve wanted to be well rested.

However, despite her intentions her steps led her to the southern gates. A single guard was stationed, sitting on a stool. A torch was hung on either post and he huddled near one for light, engrossed in a book. Her footsteps grinding through the new-fallen snow alerted him as she got close, and he all but leapt to his feet.

“My lady.”

Neve waved a hand dismissively, hiding a faint grin. “I’d like to go out.”

“Yes, my lady Herald.” Setting his book on the recently abandoned stool, he slid the heavy steel-bound plank that barred the door aside and shouldered one of the gates open. “Take care; watch reported wolves about in the forest. ‘Bout half a league south-west.”

“I won’t be going far. But I’ll be careful.”

Neve nodded to him and stepped past. The wind was stronger here and she grimaced as a gust blew mists of ice against her cheeks, wondering why she’d decided to come outside after all. There was a warm tavern and decent ale just behind her and any company she might want, and here she was wandering around in the dark on a frozen mountainside inhabited by wolves and demons and Maker knew what else.

Perhaps it was yet another sort of rebellion against what she ought to be doing.

Frowning to herself, Neve found a fallen tree just out of sight of the main gate. She dusted off a layer of snow and sat down, wrapping herself up in her coat.

She thought again of her friend from the Conclave. Cash, or… Cadash. Tae Cadash. She repeated the name several times under her breath. She would not allow herself to forget. The girl deserved to be remembered by someone. She would have made a good Herald. She was friendly and outgoing and came from a large house, smuggler though she was. It didn’t seem right the Maker hadn’t spared her life.

Though, she supposed He hadn’t spared Divine Justinia’s life, either. Only Neve's. Out of a great many people who no doubt deserved to live more than she did. People who had more to offer the world.

Some time later, Neve wasn’t certain how long, she was surprised to hear footsteps crunching in her direction. She stiffened, standing up and reaching for her belt. No sword. She had left it back at the cabin. She thought of the wolves the guard at the gate had warned her about. Before she could truly begin to panic, she realized the footsteps sounded like they were being made by only two feet, not four.

Josephine, bundled up in what looked to be no less than three cloaks--one made entirely of fur-- was heading her direction. Neve’s eyebrows rose and she merely blinked at her until the shorter woman noticed her.

“There you are,” she announced, coming over to sit down on the log beside Neve.

“I’m sorry--were they looking for me?” Neve asked.

“No, no...please, sit,” Josephine said in her pleasant, accented voice.

Neve sat back down on the log, looking at the woman curiously. “I see you came prepared for the cold,” she told her, grinning.

Josephine laughed, still getting herself situated on the log. “This is not what I would call ‘my kind of climate’,” she admitted. “I came to make sure Cassandra and Leliana’s atrocious manners hadn’t frightened you all the way back to Ostwick.”

“Oh,” Neve said, gathering her own coat back around herself more tightly. “No, of course not. I know the situation is far from simple. I wish I had been able to help the mages as well as secure the Templars.” Neve told her, a troubled expression on her face. “It seems no matter what I do, it’s the wrong thing. I just wanted to close the Breach and the Templars seemed the best choice.”

“Cassandra left the choice to you. You are the one who must close the Breach; it is only right that you are able to decide who you would like to assist you,” Josephine told her reasonably.

“But now Tabris says Tevinter is at Redcliffe… The Inquisition should be dealing with that instead, and now we don’t have time.”

Josephine tilted her head a little at that. “There is never time to deal with all the problems that arise. You are doing everything you can, and you were right about the Breach. It must come first.”

Neve sighed. “I don’t know why I’m here. I mean,” gesturing with her left hand a little, the emerald glow from her palm bright against the darkness, “Obviously it's because of this but I can’t understand how this fell to me.”

Josephine thought about that for a few moments. “How do you think someone else might have handled all of this?” She finally asked, gazing back placidly at the curious look Neve turned her way.

“What do you mean?”

“You do not seem to think you are handling things very well. How do you think someone more capable might deal with this situation?”

Neve opened her mouth then closed it, her brow knitting. She stared at the snow between her boots. Tiny crystals of ice danced in the wind that cut between the pines, causing Josephine to shiver and burrow deeper into her cloaks as it reached them.

“I used to ask myself that question when I began to take on more responsibilities for my family’s estate. What would father have done? What would mother say in response to this? When I became a diplomat: What would Leliana tell this person?” Josephine chuckled a little.

“Think of someone you respect. Someone you look up to, who would be better than you are when it comes to dealing with a type of situation. What would they do? Before long, I promise… You will not have to ask what someone else would do. You will simply know. And then someone will be asking themselves ‘what would Trevelyan do?’”

**

The yard was quiet for a change that morning as Neve made her way from the temporary cabin she'd been assigned. On the rise just outside the Chantry, Leliana's tent was at the center of most of the activity in Haven

Once things had begun to come to order, there was talk of moving Tabris's hastily set-up intelligence operations inside the Chantry, out of the cold. The sheer amount of traffic put a stop to that idea. People were in and out all day. The doors of the Chantry would fall off their hinges if they tried to relocate inside.

The Spymaster was leaning over a rough wooden desk beneath the tent, talking to one of the hooded spies Neve had seen all over the Hinterlands and Haven itself. Hanging back, not wanting to intrude or interrupt, Neve waited for Leliana to finish.

With a nod and a fist clasped to their chest, the agent left the tent with swift purpose.

Leliana noticed Neve lingering around the entrance and waved her over. “It’s not much but it does help block the wind a bit,” she said, gesturing to the inside of the tent wall that was braced by stacked crates.

Neve shrugged. “I suppose I’m used to it. It’s always cold in Albrecht. Nothing bites quite like the wind off the sea.”

“Indeed. Trevelyan, I wanted to apologize… Normally Cassandra and I present a much more united front. It was unworthy of us to devolve to such conflict.”

“Are you still angry with each other?” Neve asked, grimacing a bit.

Leliana chuckled, a light musical sound that seemed well practiced. “No. Those kinds of outbursts are unfortunately what happens when loose lips begin flapping. I had spies in Redcliffe from the moment we began scouting the Hinterlands. My job here is to know what is going on and smooth the Inquisition’s path as it does what needs to be done, as I have reminded Cassandra. No doubt she would manage to work herself up if she knew many of the locations I have sent our scouts. It is why our duties are separate.”

Neve nodded, crossing her arms with a thoughtful expression. “That makes sense. So who ran their mouth?” Neve joked.

Leliana’s smile was enigmatic. “Someone who will know better the next time.”

Neve chuckled, holding her hands up defensively. “Is there anything I can help you with? I feel a bit useless until the Templars arrive.”

“Everything is well in hand, Herald. I should be asking you that question, no? Much will depend upon you today.”

Neve nodded, frowning a little to herself. Leliana regretted bringing it up. “You are not alone. We are all here to help you however we can.”

“I know. Whatever it takes, the Breach will be no more after today,” Neve told her.

“I am glad to hear it. The last report from my scouts said the Templars would be arriving within the next couple of hours. I believe Cassandra wanted to speak with you beforehand.”

Neve nodded, bowing a little at the waist before she left Leliana to her pile of reports.

Not long after Neve had left, Josephine came peeking her head into Leliana’s command tent. Leliana blinked in surprise. “What are you doing so far from a hearth?”

“Hah hah,” Josephine sniffed indignantly, to Leliana’s amusement. “Are you going to the Breach with them?” she asked.

“Of course. Kallian and I are going to ride ahead and prepare the soldiers in case there are any more surprises. You are welcome to join us.”

“I believe I shall. Such an event won’t happen again, right? I shouldn’t like to miss such a momentous occasion.”

“Hopefully not,” Leliana said with a grin. “I think Trevelyan is ready to throw everything she has at the damned Breach including the stockpile of pitch grenades if the Templars aren’t enough.”

“She is a sweet girl. I know this situation has been difficult for her. It is much pressure to put upon one person’s shoulders.”

Leliana hummed thoughtfully. “A swift end to all of this would benefit everyone, I think. There is still a war to get back to,” she said, her tone growing grim.

“That is another thing I came to tell you. None of my contacts in Val Royeaux were able to confirm Grand Enchanter Fiona was ever there. Perhaps she used some spell to travel between the capital and Redcliffe. She must have been quite discreet to have slipped all of them.”

“Something is not adding up. Kallian and Varric never actually saw her at Redcliffe, but I find it odd that she would even _be_ in the capital given her contention with the Chantry.”

Josephine nodded. “A problem for another time.”

“I’ll have the stables get the horses ready,” Leliana told Josephine, smirking a little. “Don’t forget your coat.”

**

The Templars were already at the temple ruins when Neve and the others arrived. Ser Barris greeted them just outside.

“Herald. The Templars stand ready to lend their power to seal the Breach,” He told her, bowing his head a little.

“Thank you. I am ready,” Neve told him, falling in to step beside him as they walked toward the Breach.

Neve noticed Leliana stayed well back from the inside of the temple this time. It got her thinking about the red lyrium again.

“I guess Leliana doesn't want a repeat of her spell the last time we were here. Does just being near the red lyrium affect people so badly?” Neve asked Cassandra, who paced determinedly at her side.

The Seeker glanced over at Kallian and Leliana, a flash of worry coming over her face before she shook her head a little in response to Neve's question.

“She tells me it is an old injury that proximity to the red lyrium causes to flare up. It does not seem to affect others so quickly, but make no mistake: it is extremely dangerous. Varric and I can agree on that if nothing else beneath the sun. The fact that so much is here at the site of the temple is troubling.”

Neve was quiet for a few steps, eyeing the red growths along the crumbled walls. “I think we should focus on that next. After we help the mages, I mean. I have seen more growths like this in the Hinterlands. I don't like that so much of it is in the wild.”

“I agree. Leliana is already looking into it, but I will find out more from the Templars as well. They have had the most direct contact with it; their help could be invaluable.”

Josephine was sitting on her horse beside Leliana and Kallian. Neve met her eyes briefly and lifted a hand. Josephine nodded to her in encouragement before they passed beyond the walls surrounding the center of the ruins.

The Breach was calm. Calmer than it had been the first time Neve had been here, anyway. Above on the walls, Templars stood waiting for orders. When she arrived, their attention immediately focused on her. Solas, as well, was waiting near by and looked to her as she drew near.

Neve suddenly wasn't sure what to do. At her side, her left hand clenched tightly, the glow from the Mark seeping from between her fingers. Tearing her eyes from the Breach high above, she glanced at Cassandra.

Nodding to her, the Seeker drew her sword and turned, addressing the waiting Templars who immediately drew to attention.

Neve thought of Josephine's advice. A cynical voice told her there was no one she could turn to about the Breach. No one she could imagine their response to closing a magical tear in the sky. It seemed she was going to have to find out 'what would Trevelyan do' sooner than she thought.

She lifted her hand and aimed the Mark at the Breach. Like before, it sparked and flared with green light, drawn to the Breach almost like a magnet. But unlike before, the Breach didn't erupt wildly out of control. Behind her, the Templars focused their power. Neve could feel it. Time seemed to go by in an instant, and before she knew it the Mark had gone dark, and the air in the temple was still.

“You did it,” Cassandra said. High above the temple ruins, the sky was calm.

There was still the problem of the mages, the red lyrium, the war. But for a moment, Neve forced her swirling thoughts aside. The Breach was closed.

It was a start.


End file.
